Invisible
by Fictatious
Summary: On an inexplicable impulse, Bakura, a professional criminal, takes in a bruised and beaten teenager whom he's seen around but never spoken to before today. Tendershipping.
1. Chapter 1

It was the boy from the bus-stop.

Bakura stopped hearing what his lunch appointment was saying as his eyes were drawn to the opposite sidewalk, where a white-haired teenager was shuffling along, a backpack hanging off one shoulder. Bakura had seen him before. Three, four times a week. He would be standing at the corner of Sixth and Picket, waiting for the bus. Bakura had first noticed him a month ago, and had kept noticing him since then.

There wasn't anything particularly striking about the boy. When Bakura saw him, he was always wearing black slacks and shoes -the uniform of retail or the service industry- peeking out from under a rather unfortunate coat. He stood with an unassuming posture, his shoulders slightly curled in, his back not slouched but not straight either. His long hair was, perhaps, a little unusual, but not exceptionally so.

He had a pretty face, but all together he was entirely unextraordinary, even drab. Yet for some reason, he'd come to fascinate Bakura when he'd be stopped for the traffic light and see the boy standing there, waiting for the bus. He'd mused, on more than one occasion, that if the boy wore clothes that suited him, or if he smiled, he would have been positively stunning.

He wasn't at the bus-stop today. He was eight blocks from the place Bakura usually saw him, and he walked with a hesitance, something almost shameful in his manner. If Bakura squinted, he could make out a redness around the boy's eyes, and somewhat above them, covered over almost entirely by his loose hair, a patch of purple was just peaking out.

Bakura's companion had stopped talking. After a moment he called Bakura's name; Bakura started to turn back to him and then froze when he saw the townhouse the boy had stopped at the door of. He knocked and a pretty girl opened the door and fussed over him for a moment, touching the boy's face and finally throwing a hug around his shoulders, before guiding him inside. Inside Bridget Forde's Place.

Bridget Forde's Place was a well-kept secret of the less moral half of society. It was one of the old Victorian townhomes, huge inside, with plenty of room for a wealthy Victorian family and their servants. Or for a dozen prostitutes.

"Bakura? Is something wrong?"

Bakura glanced back at his dining companion for a moment and then said, "Yeah. I have to go. I'll call you later." He pushed himself out of his chair and started weaving his way through the densely packed tables of the sidewalk café.

"Bad form, Bakura. You are not the center of the universe, you know. I _do_ have other clients," the annoyed voice called after him.

"So take five-percent out of my commission or something and quit bitching," Bakura snapped over his shoulder, stepping free of the field of patio-furniture.

His eyes were trained on the Forde townhouse as he strode to the crosswalk and waited for the light to change. When it did, he jogged across and down the row to Bridget's Place. He rapped his knuckles sharply against the door and waited. The response took longer than it had when the boy arrived.

When the door finally opened, the pretty girl from before appeared behind it, blocking the entrance with her body in a subtle, practiced way that most people wouldn't have noticed. "Hello sir, how may I help you?" she asked sweetly.

"Is Bridget baking today?" Bakura asked quietly -he'd heard the phrase over scotch in a private club some months back- and the girl stepped back, holding the door open for him.

Bakura moved past her into the large entry hall. It was a tastefully decorated in a way that preserved the classic feel of Victoriana, the kind of front room one would expect from an upscale establishment like Bridget's. "Do you have an appointment?" the girl asked, closing the door behind him. "I didn't know anyone was coming in this early."

"The boy who just came in here," Bakura said, glancing around at the closed doors to the sides of the hall and the elegant central staircase directly ahead. "I want to see him."

"I-I'm sorry," the girl said, giving Bakura a dubious look. "He won't be available today."

"Is he new?" Bakura asked, turning to look at her.

"Y-yes..."

"I'm not here for the service. I just want to talk to him," Bakura said. "I... didn't realize he was in financial crisis." The statement was, technically, true, although the implication that Bakura actually _knew_ the boy was patently false.

A slightly mournful look came over the girl's pretty face. "I see..." she said quietly. "Um, he's- he's just gone to settle in and... get cleaned up."

"May I speak to him?" Bakura pressed.

"I... What's your name?" the girl looked worried.

"Bakura."

She looked slightly relieved. "I... um... follow me," she said and turned towards the stairs.

Bakura followed her up to the second floor and around the balcony to one of the many closed doors in the silent house. She knocked softly and called, "Ryou?"

A muffled response came from within and the girl opened the door a few inches. "Ryou, it's- um, you have a visitor. N-not a client, it's- um- a Mister Bakura...?"

"... Who?" a quiet voice asked, sounding baffled.

"Um- He-he said he knew you," the girl said, frowning a bit and glancing back at Bakura.

"Actually, I never said that," Bakura corrected. The girl's eyes widened slightly and a look of outrage took over her features as a faint blush bled onto her cheeks.

"You-!" she started.

"I know you."

The girl went quiet, looking back at the boy, Ryou. "I mean... I've seen you," he mumbled, his eyebrows pinching together. "By the bus stop."

Bakura felt an odd warmth in the front of his chest momentarily, like the burn of distilled liquor, at the realization that the boy had seen him, even inside of his car, and taken some kind of notice. Bakura's eyes wandered over the purple edge of a large bruise hiding under his hair. Ryou noticed and pulled his hair over it, eyes darting away. "You were beaten by... your pimp?" Bakura asked.

Ryou's head snapped up, a bright flush coming quickly to his cheeks and fury suddenly burning in his eyes. "I _don't_ have a _pimp!_" he shouted.

"You need to _leave_," the girl said in a stony voice, glaring at Bakura. "_Now_."

Ryou's head dropped again, his face crumbling as soon as the yell had left him, and started fidgeting with his hair and stammering, his voice shaky. "I- I've never- It's not like- I wouldn't- I'm not- I don't- I don't have anywhere else to _go!_" he sobbed. "Mama-Bridget _offered_ me a job but I didn't- not until today- I couldn't- what _else_ am I supposed to _do?_"

"You don't want to be here?" Bakura asked.

"Sir! I _asked_ you to _leave!_" the girl insisted and Bakura ignored her. After a few more seconds she turned and ran toward the stairs, shouting, "_Jeffery!_"

"I don't..." Ryou whispered, shaking visibly. "I don't have anywhere else to go..."

"Room, board and pocket-money. Everything Bridget would give you, significantly less 'work'." The words had left Bakura's mouth before he even realized he was speaking.

Ryou's hands stilled on the lock of hair he'd been worrying. He tilted his head just enough to look up at Bakura through his fringe. He was silent for a while as they just stared at each other. Finally he whispered, "...I don't _know_ you."

He was right, and Bakura's offer, following the boy in here in the _first_ place, was complete lunacy. What the hell was he doing? "You won't know most of the men who come through this door," Bakura said, deciding that he must have completely lost his grip on reality.

There were heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. Bakura and Ryou kept staring silently at each other until a man built like a tank was looming over Bakura. "Sir, I need to ask you to leave," the tank-man said in a warning voice as Bakura finally ripped his eyes away from Ryou. The girl from earlier was standing behind the tank-man, glowering at Bakura.

"W-wait!" Ryou finally opened the door the rest of the way and stepped clumsily into the hall, before freezing like a deer in the headlights. "I- I..." he stammered, looking up at tank-man before quickly moving his eyes to the girl behind him. "M-Mel, I'm sorry to have caused you trouble..."

"It's not your fault, Ryou," the girl, Mel, said, shaking her head. "Just go back in your room and Jeffery will take care of this."

"N-no, I mean- Please, just-" Ryou held up his hands in a hesitant 'stop' gesture momentarily before ducking back into the room. He ran over and grabbed his backpack off the large, ornate bed, before returning to the door, his gaze towards the floor. "Sorry, Mel. Sorry about this, I- Sorry for the trouble," he stammered, inching out into the hallway.

"Ryou, what are you _talking_ about?" Mel demanded, looking alarmed.

"Sorry," Ryou whispered, shuffling forward and gingerly catching hold of Bakura's sleeve.

"Ryou, do you even _know_ this guy?" Mel asked frantically.

The tank's hand landed over Ryou's wrist and he flinched, his shoulders curling in. "Go back in your room, Ryou," the tank rumbled.

"I haven't met with Mama-Bridget yet," Ryou mumbled. "I don't work here."

"_Ryou!_" Mel shouted.

The tank reluctantly let go of Ryou's arm and Ryou stepped closer to Bakura, still not taking his eyes off the floor. "Let's go," he whispered, barely audible.

Bakura didn't need telling twice. He put a hand on Ryou's shoulder and towed him quickly to the stairs and down. "_Ryou!_" Mel shouted, chasing after them. "Jeffery, _do_ something!"

"Melody, he's right... And he doesn't want to be here," the tank said helplessly- if a voice like that could sound helpless.

Melody huffed in frustration and flew down the stairs after them as Bakura swept Ryou toward the door. "_Ryou_, he could be a _serial killer_ or something!" she shrieked.

One of the doors on the side of the hall opened and another young woman poked her head out of it, looking exhausted. "For the love of God, Melly, it's _quiet time_," she moaned.

"Fuck off, Cynthia!" Melody snapped. "Ryou! Whatever this is, it's a _terrible_ idea!" she insisted, following them to the door as Bakura pushed it open and stepped back into the natural light outside.

Ryou stopped and Bakura paused, looking at him. Ryou started to turn, and Bakura let go of his shoulder to let him. "Mel, it's okay," he said quietly, moving back up a step and giving Melody a timid hug. "I'll call you soon," he promised. He turned toward the street again and stepped down to Bakura's level, eyes cast down once more. Melody looked like she was about to burst into tears, but she didn't yell this time as Bakura laid his hand between Ryou's shoulder blades and lead him out onto the sidewalk.

Bakura headed for where he'd parked his car, his mind buzzing with just one question- what the _hell _was he doing? He didn't notice that his lunch appointment was still sitting at the same table where Bakura had left him twenty minutes earlier, until he was addressed in that sardonic tone that Bakura just _hated_.

"_That's_ your emergency? Love at first sight?"

Bakura whipped around and glared at the blond. "What the _fuck_ are you still doing here?" Bakura demanded.

"Eating lunch." He received a raised eyebrow.

"Fuck off, Yami. This is none of your Goddamned _business_," Bakura snarled.

"_You_ are my business," Yami corrected, casually slipping a piece of fish into his mouth.

"_Fuck_ you."

Yami's eyes wandered over Ryou, examining the wrinkled clothes and pitiful state the boy was in at the moment. "_Hey_." Bakura snapped his fingers as though trying to get a dog's attention. "Over _here_, dick. Something you need _clarified_ or d'you just need a _boot_ in your ass?"

"I'm just a bit curious," Yami replied, looking back to Bakura. "Five percent? Seems pretty serious. This also seems rather out of character, and I'm concerned you might be acting imprudently."

"_Fuck_ you. That was five percent from my net, not five _off of_ my fee."

"It's not my place to council you on anything beyond business matters, but I do hope you intend to practice discretion and keep your social and professional lives strictly separated." Yami turned back to his plate and cut another bite-sized piece of fish.

"_Fuck. You._"

"There's a meter-maid looking at your car," Yami said in a casual tone.

Bakura turned to where he'd left his car and there was indeed a meter-maid standing next to it, scribbling on his ticket-pad. Bakura growled and stormed toward to the lowliest of civil-servants, pulling Ryou along so Yami couldn't analyze him anymore. "A little over-eager there, aren't you?" Bakura called loudly and the meter-maid looked up. "There are _three minutes_ left on that meter."

The meter-maid gave him a slightly disgruntled look and stepped back, disappointed at having failed to ruin somebody's day. Bakura ignored him, clicking the remote unlock and making his car give a cheerful chirp. "This is us," he said brusquely, letting go of Ryou as he split off to walk around the driver's side. Ryou hesitated a moment before stepping over to the passenger door.

Bakura pulled his sunglasses out of their clip on the dashboard and then paused, watching Ryou get into the car. Ryou took far too much care in sitting down. Bakura bit the inside of his cheek as he pulled his seatbelt around him and slipped on his sunglasses. Bakura observed Ryou quietly as the boy pulled the door shut and reached for his own seatbelt. He must have felt Bakura's gaze, and he glanced up, briefly making eye-contact before looking away again.

"...Do you want to go to the hospital?" Bakura asked.

"N-no!" Ryou yelped, looking up at Bakura again, for just a moment, with a startled expression. "I mean- I'm fine," he mumbled quickly.

"...Okay." Bakura turned the key and his car's radio burst loudly into life.

000

Ryou stared out the huge windows at the city streets and rooftops spread out below him. The condo was really high up. The building was one of the towering high-rises in the middle of downtown, nestled in amongst the big corporation buildings and businesses at the heart of the city. It was very expensive real estate.

It was a one-bedroom residence, but it was bigger than the three-bedroom apartment Ryou had grown up in. It had an open floor-plan, with the dining room and living room nearly indistinguishable from each other and the kitchen walled-in only by a bank of counters, its area defined by the distribution of tile on the floor. It was the kind of place you saw in movies, not a place real people lived. He found himself wondering, yet again, what exactly Bakura's occupation was. He had a strong feeling that it wasn't entirely legal. If at all.

_Mafia_. The word kept creeping into Ryou's mind. He'd known, when he left the brothel with the man, that he was doing something _extremely_ stupid. He'd just been hired as an exclusive whore to some sort of gangster. Yes, this was probably the stupidest thing he'd ever done. He could hear his 'client' moving around behind him, walking back and forth across the apartment, picking something up in one of the rooms that actually had a wall and door separating it from the central area, then returning, then seeming to have forgotten something and going back.

He was nervous too. This wasn't something he did very often, apparently. That thought was comforting, at least. Ryou heard the footsteps move in closer and he stayed still, looking out at the city, as Bakura came up beside him.

"How long ago did that happen?" he asked.

Ryou was blank for a moment. He glanced at Bakura out of the corner of his eye, and saw that the man was looking at the bruise. The obvious one. "Eighteen hours, maybe," Ryou said, his voice small and slightly hoarse.

"... I don't suppose icing it now would do much good..."

"Probably not," Ryou agreed.

They lapsed into silence for a while, staring out the large living room windows. At length, Bakura ventured another question. "Are those the only clothes you have?" he asked.

"... Yes," Ryou whispered. He hadn't exactly packed. He'd put on the first shirt and pants he pulled out of the drawer, stuffed the photos from the mantle into his backpack, and got out the door as quickly as he could.

"... Have to fix that..." Bakura muttered.

Ryou wondered if his identity as personal-whore would have a dollish component to it. Would he be dressed up and paraded around like a trophy? Or maybe his wardrobe would consist of fetishy things, and he'd never leave the house?

"... Chinese or Italian?"

Ryou blinked slowly and turned to look at Bakura. "What?"

"I'm ordering in," Bakura explained. "Chinese or Italian?"

Ryou wondered how long it would take Bakura to get used to the arrangement and start treating him like a possession rather than a guest. "Either is fine," Ryou said quietly. It wasn't that he minded the awkward politeness; he just wished he could see how this... arrangement was going to play out.

"You're not vegetarian or anything, are you? Any allergies?" Bakura asked.

"No," Ryou answered, shaking his head. "Anything is fine."

"...Okay," Bakura said, nodding slightly. After a minute he walked away and Ryou could hear him ordering Chinese food over the phone.

000

Watching somebody eat should not have been this fascinating. Bakura found himself spending the entire meal watching the way Ryou moved. The way he held his chopsticks -the correct way- how he kept his elbows in close to his body and confined his movements to a small area. He moved his arm without moving his shoulder up or down, more small motions. Polite, refined, an almost feminine delicacy. When his hair started getting too much in his way, he'd give his head a particular little shake that Bakura found especially engaging.

Ryou spent the meal watching his bowl.

It was still early evening when they'd finished eating. It had been an early dinner, since Bakura had missed his late lunch and suspected that Ryou hadn't eaten very recently either. After putting the few dishes they'd used into the washer, Bakura checked his phone. Yami had sent him a file. Thank _God_; he had something to _do_.

"I have something I need to work on," Bakura said, leaning awkwardly against his chair, across from where Ryou was still sitting, staring blankly down at his hands on the wooden tabletop. "You can- whatever, if you want to watch TV or something..." Bakura had never felt so awkward in his life as this boy -and his insane idea to just take him home like some kind of pet- was making him now.

"Can I take a shower?" Ryou asked quietly, not looking up.

"Oh. Yeah. Of course." Bakura mentally kicked himself, the boy had been looking like hell all day and obviously something pretty bad had gone down earlier, and he'd probably just wanted to _bathe_ all day while Bakura was bumbling around like a dazed moron, trying to figure out what the hell he'd been thinking. "I'll... find something for you to wear."

Bakura realized he'd failed to mention a rather crucial detail. "Er, the bathroom's the door on the right." He pointed across the living room. "There's towels on the shelves opposite the sink and whatever's in there, feel free to use anything." He stopped before saying 'make yourself at home,' which would have been just too awkward under the circumstances.

"Thank you," Ryou said quietly, pushing away from the table and standing up.

Bakura watched him make his way quickly to the bathroom and stared at the closed door for a few minutes before he reminded himself to move. He wandered slowly into his bedroom to find a change of clothes for the boy. He was in for the night, he wasn't going anywhere, he just needed lounging clothes, something comfortable to sit around in between shower and bed.

Bed. Jesus Christ, what the _fuck_ had he been thinking? This had to be the stupidest thing he'd ever done.

Bakura shook himself and pulled out the bottom drawer of his dresser. Sweats and a T-shirt. That'd be fine. The pants had a drawstring so they could be cinched up to accommodate Ryou's delicate build. Perfect. He added a pair of boxers to the stack and then stood up and looked at the door that connected the bedroom and the bath.

He waited quietly until he heard water start running, then gave it the few seconds it took the shower to heat up. He then moved toward the closed door and tapped it lightly before turning the knob and carefully venturing in. The shower door was closed with the blurred image of Ryou standing behind the fogged glass.

"I... found some stuff you can wear tonight. The fit won't be great but- we can go get something better tomorrow... or something..." Bakura cringed inwardly at how ridiculous his nervous, halting voice sounded. He hadn't had this much trouble talking to anyone in years.

"Thank you," Ryou replied in a colorless voice.

"I'll put them on the counter here," Bakura said, depositing the pile of clothing next to the sink.

"Thank you."

"No problem," Bakura mumbled, _God that sounded stupid_, and retreated out the living room door.

He shut the door behind him and then stepped to the side so he could lean back against the wall, feeling exhausted, almost winded. Bakura dropped his face into his hands and shook his head. He was crazy. This whole thing was so ridiculously _stupid_ it belonged in some kind of record-book. He knew he wasn't the first man who had taken a shine to a pro and turned them into a mistress. But generally those men _knew_ the person ahead of time. And they rented them their _own_ little loft apartments rather than taking them _home_.

Bakura was pulled out of his inner self-reprimand by a soft sound from behind the bathroom door, barely audible over the shower. He wouldn't have been able to hear it at all if he were two feet farther away.

Crying.

Bakura closed his eyes and bit his lip. "..._Shit_..." he whispered.

000

The shower helped. The shower helped a lot. It didn't make Ryou's body stop hurting, or change the situation he'd put himself in, but at least it washed away the filth, and got the smell of _him_ off of Ryou's skin.

He looked at himself in the mirror behind the sink -the kind that covered the entire upper part of the wall, not just a little medicine cabinet- as he slowly dried off, and counted the visible bruises on his skin. Counting, quantifying some part of the experience, also seemed to help. After patting away all the droplets clinging to his body, Ryou wrapped the towel around his hair and picked through the clothing Bakura had left on the counter.

Bakura had to have at least twenty -more likely closer to thirty- pounds on him. He wasn't exceptionally tall, maybe six feet, give or take an inch, which still put him four or five inches above Ryou but it was nothing that would make him stand out in a crowd, and there wasn't any shirt-stretching, 70s-style brawn, but he also wasn't skinny like Ryou.

The boxers would have slid right off Ryou's hips. He glanced to the sweat-pants with a drawstring waist and shrugged to himself; how long was he going to be wearing these things anyway? So he forewent the underwear and pulled on just the sweat-pants and T-shirt before glancing to the floor where his previous outfit was lying. It was all filthy and he didn't want to touch it again, but the neat-freak in him wouldn't let him leave the mess to lie.

The size and shape of the whicker container in the corner suggested a hamper and Ryou carefully picked up his jeans between two fingers and went to investigate. He was right, and one by one he dropped the wretched articles out of sight. He kicked his shoes under the counter, they weren't the kind of thing you just threw in the wash, but he didn't want to look at them either right now.

A nice brush with rounded-off teeth between soft bristles made Ryou thankful that Bakura had long hair too. He hated the thought of having to untangle the mess his hair had become with a rigid comb.

Ryou must have spent more than a half hour perched on the edge of an over-sized kind of bathtub that you only ever saw in movies or plumbing stores –and in _addition_ to a corner shower- brushing slowly at his hair, progressing gradually from tip to root. The slow, even strokes and visible, tangible progress was cathartic, and he kept brushing for a little while after he'd removed all the tangles. He grabbed the towel again and patted out the excess water that had been tied up in the tangles before as he wandered over in front of the mirror. He brushed it out once more, staring at his reflection.

He stood still for a while after that, forced to admit that his hair was entirely sorted and he couldn't just keep brushing it forever. He stared at himself silently for several minutes, before finally dropping his towel into the hamper and opening the door out to the living room.

Bakura was sitting in the corner of the modular sofa, poking a stylus at a tablet as his eyes flickered back and forth over the lit surface, studying something in great detail. Ryou watched him from the doorway for a few minutes before quietly walking out to the sitting area. As he crossed into Bakura's peripheral vision, the man looked up sharply, in a not-quite startled, but definitely over-anxious way.

"Ah, you're... done. Do- if you want to watch TV or something-" he started, sounding almost comically uncomfortable and Ryou might have laughed at some other time.

"Don't worry about it," Ryou replied quietly, drifting slowly in the direction of the windows again. "I'm sure that's very important." He nodded to the tablet Bakura was holding, and caught a glimpse of what looked like blue-prints as he passed. "I can entertain myself."

"...Alright. If you need anything," Bakura left the sentence open, incomplete.

"Thank you," Ryou replied, stopping at the windows and looking out again. It was getting rapidly darker outside, and the glass was becoming more and more reflective. Within a few minutes it was impossible to see any details but lights. Ryou glanced away from the image of his reflection freckled with street-lights, and his eyes came to rest on a bookshelf. It was out in the living room; there probably wasn't anything there that would be too sensitive for any guests that might enter Bakura's condo to look through, so there probably wasn't anything there that Ryou shouldn't see.

Ryou's eyes slid slowly over the spines of books, taking in their titles and quickly discovering that the shelves were organized by subject, certainly more useful than alphabetical order for a personal collection. On the right side, just below Ryou's standing eye-level, he found books pertaining to art.

Three books on Ming Dynasty porcelain. Four books on the masterworks of the Renaissance that had been missing since World War II. A book on originals of historic Japanese block prints. A book on antique Chinese folding screens. Six books on Picassos. A book on Stradivarius violins. Two books on Tiffany glass. Three books on Faberge. Four books on the leading names in jewelry design of the twentieth century.

From there, the shelf seemed to transition into books pertaining to jewelry and then to precious stones. Ryou looked the titles over, chewing on his lower lip and considering the content. He glanced down to the bottom shelf, which he'd noticed earlier. It was half-filled with one-inch binders containing pages run off a printer or copy machine, baring sticky notes or writing directly on the vinyl with what looked like product series numbers. Perhaps for security systems, Ryou thought idly and trained his eyes back on the art books. He mused that he might have an inkling as to Bakura's occupation now.

He pulled out the book on Stradivarius violins and wandered over to the couch. Out of the corner of his eye, Ryou saw Bakura drop his head slightly as he turned, shifting his eyes from Ryou back to the tablet. Ryou settled down with his back against the arm rest on the opposite end of the couch from Bakura and pulled his bare feet up onto the cushion in front of him, curling his knees in close to him as he slumped down and opened the book.

Ryou read silently for a while, the book started off with a little biography of Stradivari before it went into talking about why his violins were so special. "Ridiculously over-valued," Bakura said quietly and Ryou looked up at him. His eyes were still focused on whatever was on the tablet, but he continued in what seemed meant to be a conversational tone, although it was actually a bit strained. "Those things have been restored and rebuilt so many times to keep them from breaking apart, the only thing original on them is the maker's mark."

Ryou considered that for a little while, the statement, and also Bakura's apparent attempt to start a conversation. "So... you're saying they're glorified fakes and, in reality, worthless?" Ryou asked softly.

"Not worthless. They're _great_ instruments," Bakura corrected, a hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "See the people who've owned them really believe in the name, so the violins have always been restored by the _best_ craftsmen using the _best_ materials. They're the best violins you can find, they're just not the same ones Stradivari made."

Ryou tilted his head a little and glanced back down at the pages in front of him. "What about the age of the wood? Isn't that supposed to give them a unique quality of sound?"

"Old-growth makes a better anything," Bakura said. "But I don't think Europe had a lot of old-growth, so I kinda don't think that's what the guy used." He glanced up from his tablet, gazing into empty space and looking as though he were trying to remember something. "It's not the wood _itself_ that's making them better, it's something to do with vibrations. If it's an old violin, it's been played longer and had more vibrations in it. But violin makers nowadays can fake it by vibrating them with a machine or something."

"Huh." Ryou put his arm up against the back of the couch and leaned against it, thinking about the ability of modern technology to simulate time. "So then, a modern violin maker could make a better violin than Stradivari?" he asked.

"I think that gets you into philosophy," Bakura grinned properly, looking amused as he moved the stylus back and forth over his tablet. "There you have the question of which is more important, laser-precision or the kind of passion that makes a guy spend something like a year making _one_ violin."

"Science or art."

"_That_," Bakura agreed, this time looking up at Ryou when he grinned.

Ryou felt his own lips pull upwards a little, but he threw his gaze toward the coffee-table. They lapsed back into silence that felt a little less awkward than before. Ryou went back to reading about violins whose relevance was apparently under assault by modern technology. He turned the pages slowly, looking at a printed photo and a line-drawing copy of the Stradivarius makers-mark.

Ryou was halfway through the rather small and picture-filled book when again Bakura broke the silence. "Hey, d'you have a regular job or something? You were always there at the same time- the bus stop... Just- if you want to, you can keep that," Bakura spoke in an awkward, halting manner, not as though he was having doubts about what he was saying, but like he wasn't sure if he was speaking understandably. "If you don't like it then quit, but you can just- whatever you want, y'know..."

"...Thank you," Ryou said, looking over his book at Bakura, whose eyes were trained on his tablet in a way that seemed more about trying to avoid eye-contact than being busy.

Three quarters of the way through the book, Bakura spoke again, this time sounding more awkward and nervous than he had any time earlier in the day. "You... Are- um- Are you actually queer or is that just a... business... thing...?" his voice trailed off a bit at the end of the question.

Ryou was quiet for a minute, watching Bakura, who was staring at his tablet but the stylus wasn't moving. There was tension in his jaw and brow, and he appeared to be biting his tongue or something. "...I am."

The tension in the lines of Bakura's face dropped away leaving behind a look of relief. "...Okay," he said quietly, and it seemed like it was the only word he could think of to put that line of conversation to rest.

When Ryou finished the book, he closed it and laid it against his stomach. He sat silently and watched Bakura work, sometimes pushing things around with the stylus, sometimes pulling up an on-screen keyboard and typing. Ryou's eyelids and body started to feel heavier after a while, and when his eyes were about half open he saw Bakura pause to check something and then look up at him.

"Sorry, I didn't realize how late it was," Bakura mumbled, poking the stylus against the screen a couple more times and then sliding it into its holder, the screen going dark. "I... I guess I'll take a shower now..." he said, awkwardness turned up to full.

"Okay," Ryou said.

"Okay," Bakura echoed and stood up.

Ryou sat where he was on the couch, listening to Bakura move around his bedroom briefly and then enter the bathroom through the door in the bedroom. The book he'd leaned against his stomach slid down into Ryou's lap as he sat up and stared across at the bathroom door for a few more minutes, listening to the water turn on, his mind blank. Finally he got up and returned the book to the space he'd found it, before walking to the bedroom door and taking a step inside.

Bakura's bedroom was mostly pretty tidy; keys, phone and other pocket-contents had been dropped on top of the dresser, and half the drawers had been left pulled out, but the clothing inside of them was neatly folded. Ryou pushed them shut, he didn't want to disturb any of Bakura's things, but he couldn't stand leaving the drawers like that. The bed was unmade as well. Over-all, Ryou supposed the room looked like one that had been cleaned the previous day and then left as it was after Bakura woke up in the morning; about fifteen minutes worth of careless cluttering on top of a generally well-kept space.

Ryou moved slowly to the bed and started straightening the covers. Making it up completely and tucking in the pillows would just be silly, of course, but he set the blankets straight and folded them back neatly. Then he climbed on top of the bed and sat with his back leaned against the headboard.

He stared at the wall across from him, his mind still blank. He curled his knees up closer to him and waited. The water turned off in the bathroom. Ryou stared at the wall; it was very empty, a kind of wall that would generally have a picture or something hung on it. There were a lot of empty walls in Bakura's condo. He had books about fine, incredibly expensive things, and he was knowledgeable about them, but there were no fine, expensive things decorating his home. Although, the condo itself had to be a pretty expensive thing, and as much an indication of wealth as an original painting or sculpture by a major artist would have been.

The door to the bathroom opened and Ryou's eyes flicked to Bakura. Bakura wasn't looking at him, hadn't yet noticed him for the moment. He was wearing a plain bathrobe and pulling a band out of his hair that had been keeping it knotted up behind his head during the shower. He walked toward the dresser as he pulled the band out and dropped it next to his keys and pocket-things. His movements looked routine and comfortable until he caught Ryou in the corner of his eye and looked over at him, going still.

"... Should I strip or would you like to undress me?" Ryou asked.

Bakura's eyes widened minutely before he opened his mouth and tried to form an answer. "I... I realize that you've had a really terrible day. You don't have to-"

"In all honesty, I'd rather establish an idea of how this arrangement is going to work now, rather than brooding about it," Ryou cut him off in a flat, emotionless voice.

Bakura fell back on the same word he'd been using all evening, "...Okay." He looked slightly lost for a minute, as though altering routine had set him adrift like an ant out of its line. He glanced back towards the door and asked, "Do you... have a light preference?"

"Off, please," Ryou whispered.

The lights went off.

Ryou stared into the darkness and listened. Bakura was damned near inaudible, like he was in the habit of moving silently, and Ryou started very slightly when he felt the sheets go taught under his hand as weight pressed the covers down near the edge of the mattress. It was also disconcerting that the mattress didn't move under him at all; one of those 'revolutionary foam developed by _NASA!_' mattresses from the TV ads probably, with no springs tying it into a connected mesh.

Fingertips touched Ryou's cheek, hesitant but not clumsy; Ryou wondered if in addition to moving as quietly as a cat, Bakura could also see in the darkness of an unlit room. No, that was silly. He knew his bedroom and he'd seen where Ryou was sitting before he turned off the light. He just had good spatial perception.

Bakura's hand slid under his jaw and around the opposite side, gently turning Ryou's face towards him. There was a pause of hesitation, during which Ryou could feel breath buffeting softly against his skin and knew that their faces were very close, then Bakura's lips pressed softly against his. Ryou guessed that Bakura had never paid for sex before and wasn't sure how to approach the idea. There was no reason he should have had to, of course; with Bakura's face and body he could have easily been a playboy without dropping a dime. Although, he didn't seem to have the personality required for that sort of lifestyle.

Ryou parted his lips and kissed back, momentarily flicking his tongue forward, teasing. He knew how to be good, pleasing, when he wasn't in the mood. He knew how to be sweet and playful even if he was in pain or just plain terrified. And although he probably should have, Bakura didn't terrify Ryou. It was easy to kiss him and run a hand slowly up from Bakura's wrist to shoulder with a feather-light touch. His responsiveness seemed to put Bakura at ease as he kissed Ryou more firmly and put an arm around behind him, pulling Ryou away from the headboard and laying him down on his back.

Bakura must have discarded the robe before he got on the bed, and Ryou's hands slid over bare skin as he circled his arms around Bakura's neck. Ryou's fingers traced over a lot of definition in the muscles of Bakura's shoulders and back- not the protruding bulk of a body-builder, but the bandy, lean muscles of, perhaps, a climber. Upper body strength built for movement and scaling difficult surfaces rather than lifting. He slid a hand up Ryou's back, palm flat against his lats and ribs, under the loose T-shirt.

His kisses weren't very aggressive, seeming tempered by the same kind of subtlety that let Bakura walk without footsteps. He didn't nip at Ryou's lip with his teeth or press Ryou down and grip his hair to control his movement. Bakura had a pleasant kiss that demanded response rather than submission. It was a nice change of pace, and Ryou sighed softly into the kiss. He felt Bakura shiver.

Ryou pulled his arms free of the sleeves when Bakura started to pull at the shirt and Ryou's belly and chest were exposed to the tingle of cool air. Bakura's hands slid warmly over Ryou's sides and soft kisses trailed down his jaw to his neck, pausing there to suck at the space just above his collarbone. Bakura was taking such a long time tentatively surveying Ryou's skin... Ryou was suddenly horrified to realize that his eyes were burning.

No. He was not going to cry. This was going to be _great_ sex, he could tell, and he was _not_ going to _cry_. He pressed his lips firmly together and wrapped his arms back around Bakura's neck. Teeth had been introduced to Ryou's neck, not biting, just lightly grazing the skin, and fingers were playing with his nipple. The endorphins were finally kicking in now, and Ryou was starting to pant and squirm, his nerves lighting off and telling his brain it was time to switch to auxiliary power.

He was moaning by the time Bakura mouth trailed down his chest. This seemed like a month's worth of foreplay all at once, and Ryou wasn't having to push himself to warm up faster than his body's natural inclination. In fact, he was getting really horny and frustrated with the pace. Bakura's hand finally dipped under his waistband and Ryou whined through his teeth in frustration when the hand gently cupped his ass, Bakura's attention apparently still focused primarily on exploring Ryou's chest with his mouth.

Ryou decided it was a good enough cue and dropped his hands down to untie the draw-string holding the pants tight around his hips. Bakura seemed to take the hint and slid his hand down Ryou's leg, pushing the sweatpants down and then pulled them free of Ryou's ankles. When that hand came back it went straight to where Ryou wanted it. Ryou moaned lustily and leaned back his head. Bakura slid his other arm behind the small of Ryou's back, forming the suggestion of an embrace, his forehead leaned against Ryou's stomach, as he slowly stroked Ryou's erection.

Ryou just let himself moan, without having to force the sound, his body swaying and squirming with each stroke of Bakura's hand. The breath breaking against the skin by Ryou's navel was getting shakier and the strokes were getting faster. When the hand left, Ryou let out a pitiful little whine; he felt Bakura lift his knee, shifting their positions, spreading Ryou's legs apart and moving between them.

Oh God, he hadn't seen lube anywhere. Ryou bit his lip and tried not to tremble, lust getting displaced by apprehension, trying to quantify, like he had with the bruises, exactly how much this was going to hurt. An arm slid under one of his thighs, lifting gently to the side as that hand came around and molded to Ryou's hip. He just started to register that the angle was wrong when lips brushed against him. Ryou's breath caught and he froze.

He felt the movement of breath and then a tongue pressed against the underside of Ryou's erection and traveled slowly up from base to tip. Ryou dug his fingers into the sheets below him and stared up into the darkness, his breath starting up again very fast and heavy. Bakura's mouth closed around the head of his penis and Ryou heard his breathing take on a truly panicked sound.

Bakura moved the hand that wasn't holding Ryou's hip and a moment later it was pumping and caressing everywhere Bakura's mouth wasn't at any given moment. Ryou thought that he might have been moaning far too loudly as he writhed under Bakura's touch, but it was hard to tell because the blood pounding in his ears was so deafening.

If Ryou had made a table of things he'd been expecting, this would be under the couch cushions on the other side of the room. Because it was 'bitches who give the head.' Ryou lost his capacity for higher brain-function as everything everywhere became irrelevant except for hands and mouth and the shoulder his thigh was resting against and cheek-hair-ear that sometimes brushed past the sensitized skin. It was so hot and wet and _amazing._

And then he was orgasming _hard_ and twisting and pulling at the sheets and yelling wordlessly. It took ages to regain his bearings and hear anything but his heartbeat. When he could, what he heard was a muffled coughing and throat clearing. Oh for the love of God, please say he hadn't choked Bakura. Then there was a little, giddy sounding chuckle, just two notes.

"Wow."

What did that mean? What the hell did that mean? Ryou silently panicked as he continued failing to catch his breath. He felt Bakura move, crawling up over Ryou until an elbow landed below his shoulder and he could feel Bakura shifting weight onto it. Then he was nuzzling and kissing Ryou's neck. Softly. Sweetly. Ryou put his arms back around Bakura's shoulders panting slowly and staring into darkness.

"Wh-what is 'wow'?" Ryou demanded softly.

"You're _loud!_" Bakura laughed against his neck. He started kissing up Ryou's jaw to his ear and slid a hand up and through his hair on the other side. Bakura's breath was still shaking and the mouth suckling Ryou's neck was very insistent. Oh shit, that's right.

"You're not finished," Ryou whispered.

"Oh _God_ I'm _close_ though," Bakura murmured.

"Do you have any lube?" Ryou asked combing his fingers through Bakura's hair and staring up where the ceiling would be.

Bakura stilled. "...Whoever did it to you tore you up, didn't he?" he whispered, his voice shifting from giddy to serious. "I'm not making that worse."

"That- that's not-"

"No," Bakura said firmly.

"B-but-" Ryou mumbled uncertainly. "Then I- I'll-"

Bakura rolled sideways, pulling Ryou with him so they lay facing each other, then caught Ryou's hand and guided it to his erection. He leaned his forehead against Ryou's and made soft, needy little sounds while Ryou brought him to completion with his hand.

000

000

New 'verse! Actually last month or something I got a review about how happy my reader was that I wrote within the normal Yugioh verse instead of doing AUs. I had just started planning this series about a week before getting that review and I was like 'oh... damn...' But, uh, anyway, here's an urban-AU that's been kicking around my head for about a month and a half, maybe more, can't remember specific dates, but I was holding off on it until I finished FE. Now FE is finished, and this one can start living!

Melody is Miho's official English name (the blue-haired girl from season 0), most of the places where I use obscure or minor characters are in supporting roles and random OCs are all going to be unimportant-to-the-story kind of characters or plot-devises that we don't really care about too much. The setting here is a generic city, North America-ish because that's where my strongest cultural reference point is, and generally non specific and unimportant. Any interesting sounding places mentioned are probably made-up and based on generic archetypes. The scenery as I picture it has a look similar to Vancouver, with Victorian houses and urban architecture of every decade mixed together.

Um, hm, trying to think of any other points to address... and failing... Oh, uh, for reference there's going to be a lot of 'wow, that's some pretty angsty back-story' in this fic because it is the result of me watching 12 years of Law and Order: SVU on Netflix pretty much in a row. I promise more sex to come and more srs business and more Yugioh characters.

Please comment/review, my lovelies.


	2. Chapter 2

There was 80s big-hair music on the radio when Bakura's alarm went off. He groaned irritably and rolled over, flailing an arm out at the clock and feeling over the top for the off-button. He lay there for a minute after it had been silenced, with his hand resting on the clock, before mustering the energy to turn the lamp next to it on. He sat up slowly, stretching his back and yawning.

He dropped his hands in his lap and looked sleepily around the room, at which point he noticed the other body curled up in his bed. Oh. Right. That incredibly stupid/crazy thing he did yesterday. He sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair and looking at the shape of Ryou curled up under the blankets, just the top of his head and a tail of frosty hair visible. Bakura frowned softly at the way he was tucked into a little fetal ball; that was a disturbingly defensive position to sleep in. What did it imply when his _unconscious_ mind was concerned about protecting his vital organs?

Bakura blinked in surprise, suddenly noticing a faint trembling in Ryou's body. He scooted across the mattress, next to Ryou, and picked at the top of the blankets, uncovering Ryou's face. Ryou turned his head to look back up at Bakura, already quite awake apparently. The light from the bedside lamp wasn't particularly good, but Bakura thought that Ryou looked a great deal paler than yesterday and he was biting his lip.

"What is it?" Bakura whispered. "What's wrong?"

"...Feel sick," Ryou mumbled back.

Bakura lifted a hand and touched it gingerly to Ryou's face, slowly laying the palm against his forehead. Ryou's skin was definitely hotter than it should have been. "Fuck," Bakura whispered, his fingers brushing through Ryou's fringe as he pulled his hand back. "_Fuck!_" he repeated through his teeth and clambered off of the bed and to the bathroom. Aspirin. Aspirin to reduce the fever.

Bakura riffled through the drawer under the counter, excavating the aspirin bottle and then turning on the sink and shoving the cup under it. He hurried over to the bed and crouched down next to Ryou. "Okay, Ryou," he could hear his own voice wavering slightly. "You've got a fever. I need you to sit up and take some aspirin, okay?"

Ryou closed his eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath, and then pushed himself stiffly up to something resembling a sitting position. Bakura handed him the cup, then fumbled the aspirin bottle open and dropped two into Ryou's hand. Ryou had trouble getting the pills down, gagging twice before managing to swallow them. He handed the cup back to Bakura and collapsed into his fetal ball again.

"...What can I do?" Bakura asked softly, brushing back Ryou's hair with his free hand. "Is there anything you want?"

"To puke and be done with it," Ryou croaked, bunching up the blankets around his hands.

Bakura bit his cheek and combed his fingers through Ryou's hair again. "I'm going to make a call. You yell if anything gets worse, okay?"

Ryou nodded minutely.

Bakura set the bathroom cup on the nightstand and pushed himself up. He grabbed his robe and phone on the way out of the bedroom, pulling on the robe as he went and scrolling through the contacts list in his phone. He held the phone pinched between his ear and shoulder, listening to it ring, as he tied the robe around him.

"Leanne's Shopping and Errand Service: this is Tina, how may I help you today?" a young, female voice greeted when the line picked up.

"I have a small order that needs to be done immediately. Someone's sick here," Bakura said quickly.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that!" Tina exclaimed. "Okay... What's the order?"

Bakura could hear Tina typing on a clicky-keyboard as he spoke. "Cola- without caffeine, benadryl... gatorade or some other sports drink… instant rice... an enema-bag, baking soda and olive oil."

"Okay, got it. Anything else?" Tina asked. Bakura was thankful she didn't get hung up on the enema, but he supposed that most people who used Leanne's were the elderly, with any number of bowel grievances.

"Just to get it here as fast as possible," Bakura said.

"I will try to have somebody there within the hour," Tina said. "Now, do you already have an account with us?"

"Yeah... Six-two-nine-eight," Bakura said, pulling the phone away from his ear briefly to glance at the screen.

"Oh wow, somebody who actually knows their account number. Way to go," Tina chuckled. "And you're still at Akebia Towers?"

"Yes." Bakura nodded.

"Charges will be billed to the credit card we have on file... and... Okay, I'll send somebody out right away." The sound of a dot-matrix printer could be heard in the background now.

"Thanks," Bakura sighed.

"Thank _you_," Tina replied brightly. "Now I'll let you get back to the patient."

"Yeah. Thanks. Bye." Bakura nodded to no one and then switched off his phone.

He stared into space for a minute and then shook himself and walked back to the bedroom. Ryou was still curled up in a ball on the side of the bed. Bakura went over and crouched next to him again. Ryou started slightly, eyes opening up, when Bakura reached out and touched his face. Bakura paused, fingertips laying near Ryou's ear.

"You're shivering," Bakura said quietly. "Are you cold? Do you want another blanket?"

Ryou's eyes dropped a little, looking down at the blankets he already had pulled tightly around himself. "...I dunno," he mumbled.

"Okay, I'm gonna get you another one then, and you can shove it off if you don't like it," Bakura said, standing up slowly, touching Ryou's hair for a moment and then going over to the closet and pulling at a fuzzy, green blanket stuffed into the corner of the upper shelf. He shook it out, doubled it over and then tucked it messily around Ryou. Ryou mumbled something Bakura couldn't make out.

Bakura crouched down next to Ryou's head again. "Didn't hear you. What?"

Ryou's eyes were still cast down at the nautilus of blankets twisted around his hands. "Y-you don't have to be so nice," he whispered. "It's... awkward."

Bakura was silent for a few moments, then he reached out and caught Ryou's chin lightly, making the boy look back at him. "Hey. I'm pretty sure the deal was I'd take care of you," he said in a quiet but firm voice.

Ryou looked down at the blankets again.

"I'm going to get dressed because somebody's going to show up at the door pretty soon," Bakura said. He stood and touched the lump that was Ryou's upward shoulder briefly before making his way to the bathroom.

A piss and a shave later, Bakura was feeling like he had managed to get the situation well in hand. It was just a _little_ crisis. He'd dealt with much bigger crisis before. They just usually revolved around unexpected security features or equipment malfunctions and not the after-effects of the beating/rape of his... his something.

When he headed back into the bedroom in search of clothes, he found Ryou half sitting up, looking bleary and worried. "What's wrong?" Bakura asked.

"'m s'pose'ta work today..." Ryou mumbled.

"You're sick," Bakura said flatly. "You can't go to work."

"'eah but gotta call Mister Foley," Ryou protested weakly.

"Lay down, I'll do it. Where do you work?"

Ryou flopped back down. "Croissant Moon Bakery," he said with his face squished halfway into the pillow.

"Right." Bakura nodded, he'd seen their sign from the street but never stopped there. It was on the same block where Ryou always waited for the bus. He picked up his phone again and searched the name, quickly coming up with the main line for the bakery in question. He listened to it ring twice before the line picked up.

"This is the Croissant Moon Bakery, today's special is spiced-apple tart. How may I help you this morning?" an older male voice asked.

"Hi, I'm calling on behalf of one of your employees. He says he's supposed to work today but he's running a fever." Bakura glanced back over at Ryou who appeared to have fallen asleep.

There was a flipping-paper sound. "Ryou, you mean?" the man asked.

"That's correct," Bakura answered.

"Well, please tell him that I appreciate the warning," the man said in a slightly stiff tone.

"I'll do that. Thank you," Bakura said, pleased to find that Ryou's boss was apparently a highly reasonable man.

"...Is this Danny?"

Bakura froze for a moment, staring at nothing. "...No. It isn't," he said at last.

"Ah. Okay. Well, thanks again for the call," the man said, his voice loosening up noticeably.

"You're welcome," Bakura said quietly and clicked the phone off. He looked over at the blanket-covered lump that was Ryou for a while. Danny. Good to know.

000

_Ryou woke up on the bathroom floor. When he shifted, tried to sit up, a jolt of pain went through him and he whimpered pathetically, squeezing his eyes shut. He was cold, he realized after a few moments, and cracked his eyes open again, looking down at himself as he lay there on the linoleum. His pants were tangled up around his ankles; they'd been ripped down, but got caught on his sneakers and given up on. Ryou closed his eyes again, pressing his lips together and willing himself not to cry._

_It took longer this time, to work up the courage to open his eyes. He hesitantly curled his knees closer to himself, so that he could catch the waistband of his pants, and pull it slowly up, getting the jeans disentangled from his shoes. He needed to stand up to finish the job though, and he gingerly rolled onto his knees and caught the edge of the sink. As Ryou levered himself slowly to his feet, his eyes fell on the red smears decorating the fake-tile floor._

_He was bleeding. And not from any wounds he could see. Ryou whimpered, remembering... when was it? A few hours ago? He'd blacked-out and had no idea what time it was now. The bathroom didn't have any clock or windows. Maybe that's why Ryou was in it. There was no escape route._

_The flashlight, Ryou thought miserably, as he pulled his jeans up over his hips and fastened the belt. It had been the flashlight that Ryou kept next to the bed because of the apartment complex's frequent power-outages._

_Not that identifying the 'weapon' helped anything._

_Ryou sobbed and closed his eyes again. He bit his lip and told himself that he had to pull it together. He had to stop thinking about it and get _b_**out**_/b_. He opened his eyes again and lurched over to the door. The knob turned -the only actual lock was on the inside, of course- and when Ryou carefully pushed, ever so slowly, he heard a slight scrape and then a soft thump and the door stopped moving. That had to be the back of a chair, wedged under the knob._

_He was trapped._

_Ryou wondered if he was going to die._

He couldn't move. He was tied up. He was wrapped up like an insect in a spider's web. Ryou sucked in a breath and screamed at the top of his lungs, thrashing violently, every movement only seeming to entangle him more.

"_Ryou! Ryou!_" A hand grabbed his arm, which was still tied up tight and immobile against him, and Ryou tried to twist out of reach.

"_No!_ Don't _touch_ me!" he bawled.

"_Ryou!_ _Look_ at me! _Ryou!_"

A hand snagged in his hair as he struggled, and the pull on his scalp sent a fresh wave of terror through him. He screamed hysterically.

"Ryou, _please!_"

Two hands caught his face, cupping his cheeks between them and holding his head still. Ryou stared up, sobbing and gasping, at the face of Bakura.

It was Bakura. It wasn't _him_.

"You've got to calm down, Ryou," Bakura whispered, petting his cheek softly and looking worried. "I'll get you out, okay? Just calm down..."

Ryou stopped screaming and struggling, but he couldn't help whimpering and trembling as Bakura let go of his face and started trying to untangle him from the blankets.

He'd been dreaming. He wasn't in that rundown, little apartment. He wasn't being tortured. He wasn't being restrained. He wasn't bleeding. He was tucked into bed in Bakura's high-rise condominium. He was safe. Relatively. As far as he knew.

"You got really tangled up..." Bakura commented softly, extricating Ryou's arm from a knot of sheets.

_You don't know the half of it_, Ryou thought as he shivered and hiccupped.

Bakura's arm slid under his shoulders and sat Ryou up so that he could unwind the covers constricting Ryou's torso and tying the other arm against his side. When Bakura finally got past the blankets, and Ryou felt the first brush of a hand over his bare flesh, he jerked and his shaking renewed its strength.

"Okay. Okay. You're out now." Bakura's voice was quiet and soothing, and his words were far more comforting than he probably realized. Ryou sat still, trembling and staring at his benefactor while Bakura rearranged the blankets around him, getting Ryou disentangled while keeping him covered at the same time. Like he knew Ryou didn't want him to see the purple-brown blotches on his skin.

"Okay," Bakura whispered, stroking Ryou's hair softly and looking right into his eyes. "How's your stomach now? Are you still nauseous?"

In the panic, Ryou had forgotten entirely about being sick. Now that he was reminded, he felt like he might vomit at any second. He nodded, pressing his lips together.

"Okay, I'll be right back. You just hold tight," Bakura said, petting Ryou's hair once more and then standing up straight and disappearing out the door. A few minutes later, he returned holding a shot-glass, which he held out to Ryou. "Okay, try drinking this fast, and then no water or anything for a while."

Ryou stared blankly at the shot-glass for a few seconds. The liquid inside was a dark, molasses color, and it appeared to be carbonated. "...What is that?" he asked quietly.

Bakura looked slightly confused for a moment before grinning slightly. "Don't worry, it's coke. The shot-glass was just a good measure for this," he assured.

Ryou nodded and took the shot-glass. His throat protested and he almost spat it back up when he tried to swallow all of it in one go, but Ryou managed to get it down and sat for a moment, staring at the shot glass and pressing his lips shut tight. Finally he looked up at Bakura again and handed back the shot-glass.

"I'm gonna have you take some benadryl in about an hour," Bakura said, petting his hair and still looking Ryou right in the eye, completely attentive. "Are you still tired? Do you want to sleep some more?"

"No," Ryou said quickly.

"Okay. Do you want to read or watch TV or listen to the radio or something?"

Reading would be marvelously unpleasant with the headache throbbing behind Ryou's temples, and listening to music ran the risk of putting him back to sleep. "TV... would be good..." he mumbled.

"Okay. I'm gonna set you up out on the couch then," Bakura said, giving him a small smile. He glanced around and then crouched down next to the dresser and pulled out a drawer. "Here's... some pants... and a shirt... and you should probably wear socks," he said, pulling the clothes out of drawers and setting them on Ryou's lap. "I'll go get the TV set up."

Bakura gave Ryou's hair another pet before leaving the room. So that Ryou could dress without being seen. Ryou tilted his head slightly, staring at the door. He didn't want Bakura seeing the bruises, but he didn't think he'd properly expressed that. Was it because he'd asked for the lights to be out? Or maybe he was just giving off a body-shame vibe?

Ryou shrugged and pushed the blankets off of him, shaking out the fresh, flannel pants Bakura had presented him with and stepping into them. After he'd finished dressing, Ryou balled up the extra blanket Bakura had draped over him earlier and padded out into the living room.

The 'TV', he noted, was something that would more accurately be described as a 'home theatre system.' A screen seemed to have descended just in front of the fireplace and was displaying hi-def images from an LCD projector that Ryou hadn't previously noticed attached to the ceiling. It wasn't really that surprising, Ryou supposed, considering the man drove a Corvette and lived in a luxury condo in the middle of the expensive part of downtown, it would have been downright _weird_ for him to have a normal television.

Bakura seemed to have piled all the throw-pillows on the chaise and draped an afghan over the side. He looked up and smiled a little as Ryou wandered out into the room. "I'm not really sure what's going to be on this time of day, but the movie channels are in the one-hundreds and I think the first half of the two-hundreds is most of the sports channels and the second half has a lot of those stations with documentaries and crime-dramas... Mm, locals are in the nine-hundreds somewhere... I think around nine-sixty? And I don't really know what most of the stuff between three-hundred and nine-hundred is..."

"... Thanks," Ryou said quietly, sitting down on the chaise and accepting the remote Bakura handed him. He glanced up at the screen; it wasn't a pull-down, it was one of the kind that were sunk right into the ceiling, out of sight, and rolled down automatically with the push of a button. Of course.

Ryou found a nice, mindless, high school movie, with simple, formulaic drama and a romance that had been stamped out with a cookie-cutter. He curled up under the blanket and watched the dazzlingly pretty ugly-duckling girl spill her text-books on the floor after she was bumped into by a careless jerk in a letter-jacket, who then walked off without even noticing he'd done it; like she was invisible. Ryou had watched this scene in half a dozen different movies and sitcoms. It was comfortingly standard-issue.

He let himself sink into the same old story -which would inevitably have the same old ending- as the ugly-duckling commenced her comically disastrous rise and fall through the social ladder, which would eventually lead to her transformation into a swan and end just as she and the resident cute-boy finally discovered each other.

The dangers-of-gossip stage of the movie was just getting properly underway when Bakura set his computer -a regular laptop, this time- to the side and pushed himself off the couch. "Time for benadryl," he announced. "How is your stomach now?"

"It's fine," Ryou answered shifting under the blanket to sit up.

"Good," Bakura said, and went into the bathroom, immerging a few seconds later with a medicine bottle and a digital thermometer. "We should see where your temperature's at before you drink anything," he said, handing Ryou the thermometer and setting the bottle on the table before wandering back to the kitchen.

Ryou heard the clink of glass and the hum of the water-cooler on the refrigerator working; he clicked the thermometer on and put it under his tongue. Bakura returned before the thermometer had completed its analysis and Ryou looked up at him silently, watching Bakura crack the plastic seal on the benadryl and pull the medicine-cup off the top.

The thermometer finally beeped and Ryou pulled it out of his mouth to look at the screen. "What is it?" Bakura asked, looking up from reading the dosage instructions on the benadryl.

"Ninety-seven nine," Ryou murmured and held the button to turn the thermometer off.

Bakura's mouth twisted to the side a little and his eyebrows frowned. "So now you have an anti-fever...?"

Ryou shook his head. "That's normal for me. I'm a little cold-blooded," he said.

Bakura sighed. "Good," he said and poured two tablespoons of benadryl into the medicine cup, then handed it to Ryou. Ryou swallowed it and accepted the glass of water from Bakura to wash the taste out of his mouth. Bakura watched him silently until Ryou lowered the glass. Then he asked, "Have you ever had an enema?"

Ryou stared blankly at the glass for a few seconds and then turned and stared blankly at Bakura instead.

Bakura looked away nervously. "It's- I think it'll probably cut down on any more blood-poisoning, and it'll definitely help you heal faster and probably make you more comfortable," he explained.

Ryou just stared at him for a few seconds. "... Okay..." he said at last.

"Okay," Bakura echoed, looking slightly relieved. "I... I can help you or I can show you how to set it up and leave you alone if you'd prefer that."

"Um, the- the second one, I think..." Ryou mumbled, feeling his face heat up in embarrassment. "It's... not going to be something gross like... coffee or something, is it?"

"No, that's- we're going for the hygiene angle here," Bakura said quickly. "Just baking-soda and oil and a little soap to help dissolve it into the water."

"...Okay," Ryou said again, nodding and staring at his knees.

"We- we can wait until the movie's over..." Bakura muttered awkwardly.

That's right, Ryou was watching a movie, wasn't he? "...Yeah," he said, nodding again and looking up at the screen. He hadn't been paying attention for a while, but it was easy enough to identify where they were in the plot. It was the kind of story that was built like an Ikea shelving unit.

000

Ryou appeared to fall asleep on the chaise, despite the sounds of a scifi action/thriller playing on the TV, after eating a bowl of plain rice for dinner. Bakura sat on his corner of the couch and silently watched his charge. Someone, _'Danny'_, had gotten pretty rough with Ryou to put him in this state, and Ryou didn't seem like the type to ask for, or be okay with, S&M.

Although there really wasn't a 'type'; it's damn near impossible to tell someone who's into that kind of thing without it being explicitly stated or demonstrated. Maybe it was just wishful thinking that made Ryou seem like the 'sweet and innocent' type. But then, whatever had happened had inspired Ryou to abandon everything he owned and go seek safety and stability as a _brothel-worker_. So that would tend to back up the idea that he probably wasn't okay with it.

Bakura leaned his head back against the couch and gazed up at the ceiling. Now he was experiencing a desire to find _'Danny'_ and cripple him. Protective feelings now. For someone he'd known a little more than 24 hours. Bakura sighed; as much as he'd denied it, he really must have been lonely the past few months. A vague, physical attraction had turned into bringing a perfect stranger into his house and doting on him like... he wasn't sure what. It wasn't quite what he'd normally associate as feelings towards a lover, because he'd never had one that required any taking-care-of; it almost felt more familial.

But the attraction definitely wasn't familial. It also wasn't very comfortable; he didn't really know how old Ryou was, he wasn't quite brave enough to ask. It was okay for him to be a teenager when he was just eye-candy at the bus-stop, but now this was an entirely different game. Bakura sincerely hoped that Ryou was 18. Or older, older would be okay too.

He should have gotten a councilor like Yami told him to. It wasn't uncommon now; a large number of professionals had come to respect the dangers of psychology. A certain market had developed for skilled psych experts with the loose morals required for counseling successful professional criminals. Bakura knew that Yami kept a list of reliable, inside councilors, but Bakura didn't much care to give him the opportunity to say 'I told you so'_._ Maybe he could ask the twins who they used.

In his line of work, Bakura couldn't afford to have 'personal issues', and if Ryou was a mistake that ended up getting him arrested, Bakura really wouldn't have any excuse. It wasn't too late, really, Ryou had yet to be privy to any business that could have been attested to in court... but even as he considered that, Bakura knew he wasn't going to put Ryou out. He could have set him up in a little mistress-apartment like the mobsters did with their extra-marital affairs... but then he wouldn't be _here_.

Because once he was asleep, his breath slow and heavy, Ryou's presence became relaxing. There was something about listening to the sounds of another human being sleeping close by that seemed inherently calming. Last night, Bakura hadn't felt the restless urge to get up and wander around like he usually did. He hadn't chewed his nails. He hadn't tossed around restlessly. He'd just laid on his side and listened to Ryou breath until he fell asleep himself.

Bakura sighed and shook his head. He hadn't taken the threat of psychological weaknesses seriously enough before, and now he'd need to be very careful as he let this infatuation run its course. Soon they'd find points of tension- tiny, irreconcilable differences that would lead to an eventual split. He just needed to be sure not to arm Ryou with any information that could be used against him should there be resentment when it was all over.

But Bakura would try to avoid that. When they started to drift, he could set Ryou up in an apartment, with a few months' rent, and put him back on his feet. There wouldn't be anything to feel guilt over -another potential weak spot that psychology could strike him at- and there wouldn't be much excuse for Ryou to resent him.

Bakura could still come out of this situation unscathed. And the promise of this relationship being so entirely different from the preceding one sounded positively therapeutic. For a while, at least, he could pretend Ryou was a sweet, innocent angel, and that would be a pleasant diversion.

000

"Ryou," Bakura's voice was soft and nearby, tugging Ryou gently out of his doze. He yawned and turned his head, looking sleepily up at his benefactor. "I think it's bedtime," Bakura said with a small grin.

"...Mhm," Ryou mumbled, pushing himself forward a little to sit upright on the chaise. He yawned again and rubbed his neck, before noticing that Bakura was offering him a hand. Ryou dropped his feet to the floor and accepted the hand, letting Bakura help him up.

He noticed that Bakura was rather slow to relinquish his hand and when he did, he moved it to rest on Ryou's shoulder instead, as they walked over to the bedroom. The covers had been straightened; they looked a little sloppy, but they were back in their proper locations again. Ryou hopped up to sit on the comforter with his feet hanging over the side.

He watched Bakura empty the contents of his pockets onto the top of the dresser and shook his head, trying to wake himself up a little. "Are you going to take me tonight?" he asked after a moment.

Bakura stared at him, looking vaguely disbelieving. "...Ryou, do you understand _why_ you were sick today?"

"Sepsis," Ryou replied in a neutral voice, nodding slightly. "Some of the digestive bacteria from my intestine got into my blood-stream through a tear in the mucus-membrane."

"...Right," Bakura said slowly, seeming slightly surprised. "Are you having a logical disconnect here or are you being self-destructive?"

Ryou was quiet for a moment before responding. "Actually, I've been wondering if _you're_ having a logical disconnect," he said quietly. "I'm your _whore_, aren't I?"

Bakura's expression darkened and the corners of his lips took a distinct, downward turn. "Not everybody gets off on abusing someone," he said in a soft voice. "I have no desire, nor intention, to hurt you."

Ryou looked down at his hands folded in his lap. "So I can go down on you tonight, and in a couple days, when I'm back up to spec, you'll start getting your money's worth?"

Bakura made an exasperated groan. "If my only purpose was sex, it would have probably been a lot more cost-effective to just buy a few hours with you from Bridget, don't you think?"

"I figured you were territorial," Ryou said with a shrug, still watching his hands. "And it seems like you can afford to be."

"That's not it," Bakura said and then walked over and leaned against the bed next to Ryou.

"...What do you want from me?" Ryou whispered, not looking at him.

"...I've been driving a lot lately," Bakura said in a low voice. "Not going anywhere, just driving for hours at a time. In the city, out around the country, up and down the freeway. Just driving around, with the radio blasting out my eardrums." He sighed. "It's like insomnia... And I'm having regular insomnia too." He paused for a while before taking a deeper breath and then saying, "I want you to give me a reason to come back here at the end of the day. I want you to talk to me and eat with me and sleep in my bed and make 'home' not feel like a crypt... I want you to play house with me."

The trappings of a relationship without the effort or mess. Ryou couldn't find fault with that. Actually, it sounded great. If Ryou had as much money to burn as Bakura, he might have spent it similarly. "Okay," Ryou said quietly. "I can do that."

"Good," Bakura said, sounding faintly relieved. He put a hand over Ryou's shoulder and leaned over, kissing him on the cheek, before stepping away from the bed and standing up straight. "I'm going to take a quick shower. Go to sleep, okay?"

"Okay," Ryou said again, nodding, his eyes never meeting Bakura's.

000

"_This place looks more sterile than a hospital room," Malik observed in a dull tone._

"_I guess I'm just not gay enough for interior-design." Bakura muttered, rolling his eyes. "Did you find the numbers yet?" He glanced up to see Malik looking back at him with a little frown, but past him, the other twin suddenly nodded, eyes locked on his computer screen._

"_E720 series," Marid said, his eyes flicking higher on the screen and then down again. "It should be the same set-up as the one in the Mercer building."_

"_Probably a software upgrade though," Bakura said, nodding._

"_Leave that little detail to us," Marid replied with a smirk._

"_I'm worried about you," Malik said, dragging the topic off work again. "You're suffocating yourself."_

"_Not into that fetish, thanks," Bakura snorted._

_Malik moved his computer onto the coffee table and leaned against Bakura, draping around him. "You've been so reclusive lately," he pouted. "All work and no play makes Jonny a dull boy, you know."_

"_Not coming over to play today, Malik," Bakura said without looking away from his own computer screen._

"_But you look so lonely..." Malik whined and nuzzled his neck._

"_Not everyone gets lonely as easily as you."_

"_We're running ahead of schedule, you know," Marid noted in a sly tone. "We _b_**could**_/b_ take a _b_**break**_/b_."_

_Bakura shot him a look, which just made Marid's smirk widen. "Malik's right, you know. You're going to go crazy if you don't find an outlet." He dropped his computer down next to Malik's and then flopped across his twin's lap, casting an impish grin up at Bakura. "So, do you plan to fuck us now or on this job?"_

"_I'm _b_**fine**_/b_," Bakura said through his teeth. "You're the ones who are going to fuck this up if you keep getting distracted."_

"_You're so _b_**distracting**_/b_ though, Bakura!" Malik giggled and then sobered a little. "But I am serious... I'm worried about you. You're... despondent."_

"_I'm _b_**fine**_/b_," Bakura repeated._

"_No you're not," Marid said quietly, the usual smirk gone now and an uncharacteristically staid look on his face. "You're lonely. It shows."_

"_Forgive me if I don't defer to you two on psychological health." Bakura rolled his eyes again._

_Malik giggled again and then kissed his neck. "I really just don't think you should be spending so much-"_

Pain suddenly blossomed in Bakura's nose. "_Jesus Christ!_" he cursed, reeling backwards in the bed and bringing his hands up to his face.

It took a moment to register that Ryou, who he'd formerly been spooning, was flailing and getting himself tangled up in the blankets again, apparently protesting the content of his dreams. "N-no!" he sputtered, squirming.

"Ryou, you're _okay!_" Bakura tried not to snap.

Ryou's thrashing died and Bakura heard him sit up in the bed, hyperventilating. Bakura hissed, poking carefully at his nose. It was just a little bit sore; Ryou wouldn't have been able to smack him very hard from his position, even if he'd been aware of his actual surroundings.

"W-what's wrong?" Ryou stammered in the darkness. "Did- I didn't _hit_ you, did I?" he asked, horror starting to creep into his voice.

"I'm fine. No big deal," Bakura placated, sighing and running a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry!"

"It's fine. It's fine," Bakura sighed, dropping his head back down against his own pillow. "I- I'll just give you some more space, okay?"

"N-no, that's not..." Ryou mumbled. There was a moment's pause and then he crawled over to Bakura's side and dropped down against Bakura, facing him rather than letting himself be spooned. "This- this is better," he whispered.

"...Okay," Bakura said, and hesitantly and put his arm around Ryou again.

Ryou continued to tremble for a few minutes and then slowly relaxed back into even, rhythmic breathing. Bakura was still for a little while before leaning his cheek against Ryou's forehead and sinking his fingers into Ryou's hair. He closed his eyes and breathed out the stress of the little interruption, trying to drop off to sleep again.

000

000

Name-note the first: Yes, Marid is Yami-Malik. Dropping them into a non-mystical setting and making them twins, I wasn't happy enough with 'Malik' and 'Marik' because naming twins like that would just be unfair; they'd get teased so badly on the playground. I actually did a lot of poking around to find the perfect name and finally decided on 'Marid' for a number of reasons. First, it's just one-letter off 'Marik', second, it's Arabic to match Malik's name, and third, while the meaning for 'Malik' is 'master', a marid is a type of genie. Ooh, fun times with names!

So, I guess I defined what country this fic is taking place in when I had Ryou state his temperature in Fahrenheit, although I still picture the city looking rather like Vancouver in architecture and I think the ethnic make-up is going to be pretty Pacific North West-ish... Anyway, not important, just what I'm picturing in my own head as I write, so that I can make this setting come off as 'real'.

Dadadadadadata- what else... I can't think of anything. The dog is making noises at me and I'm making noises back at him and it's all quite silly. As always, I love reviews/comments, I love them so good. More to come and I'll introduce another character next time, it'll be fun.


	3. Chapter 3

The clock-radio clicked and mid-90s rock came on, making Ryou start. He fought the initial urge to shove away from Bakura, and lay still as the older man blearily rolled over to his back and shut the alarm off. After a few seconds pause, he rolled to his side again and put his arm back around Ryou, and touched his mouth lightly against Ryou's forehead, not really kissing, just leaning. "How do you feel?" he asked after a little while; his throat sounded dry.

"I'm fine," Ryou mumbled back.

"That's good..." Bakura murmured, stroking his thumb slowly against the hair behind Ryou's ear. "We should probably go get you some clothes today."

"...You're wasting a lot of time on me. Don't you have to work?" Ryou asked softly, his eyes open just a crack, though he couldn't see anything since the room was still dark.

"Freelance. I set my own hours," Bakura replied, and Ryou could feel the arm around him move slightly as Bakura shrugged. "And I haven't gotten the deposit for my current job yet, so the clock hasn't really started running on that anyway."

"How long do jobs usually take?"

"...Anywhere from two weeks to six months. Depending on complexity," Bakura answered vaguely.

"Hm." Ryou closed his eyes again and uncurled his hand, smoothing the palm out against Bakura's chest and sliding it slowly out, the tips of his fingers following Bakura's collarbone. The hand that had been stroking behind Ryou's ear moved to cup his jaw softly. Ryou tilted his face up as Bakura leaned in and gently kissed him. They exchanged subdued, surface-level kisses for a few minutes before Bakura pulled back an inch to speak again.

"You feel up to a normal breakfast or is your stomach still tender?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Ryou said again.

"Okay." This time Bakura did kiss his forehead. "Your clothes from the other day are clean now. You can wear them today. If you want to."

Ryou nodded. "What time is it?"

"Nine... Where do you want to go for clothes? The mall, or 's there a particular store you like?" Bakura asked. His hand rested on the curve of Ryou's shoulder and his thumb moved in slow, tiny circles against the skin beneath it.

Ryou shrugged his upward shoulder. "Salvation Army... Usually get my work-clothes at outlet places."

He could feel Bakura's lips twist next to his forehead, making a little grimace or something. "I think it's one of those questions of what's more valuable to a person, a bargain or the time it takes to find it. I generally lean towards time as being the more valuable, so I think I'm gonna be inclined to go the mall route here."

Ryou shrugged again. "I don't really care what I wear," he said quietly. "I just need to have black slacks and a white shirt for work. The rest of the time doesn't really matter much. Whatever fits."

Bakura was quiet for a moment, either considering Ryou's statement or being put-off by it. "Well," he said, "if we're going to take the time to get you new clothes, they should be ones you look good in."

"If you like," Ryou mumbled. "You're the one who has to look at me."

The hand on Ryou's shoulder stilled for a few seconds before squeezing a little as Bakura leaned down and kissed his cheek, then shifted and sat up, flicking on the bedside lamp. Ryou blinked a few times, sighing as his eyes adjusted to the new light source. Bakura stretched, and Ryou watched the way the muscle moved over his shoulder blades under the skin.

"So, we can get some breakfast at Beth's and then head over to the mall after that," Bakura decided.

"...Do you always eat at restaurants or order take-out?" Ryou asked.

"Eh," Bakura shrugged. "I keep some stuff in the freezer for when I'm just too lazy..."

"...I can cook." Ryou sat up and hugged his knees, watching Bakura walk around the bed, toward the dresser.

"...Yeah?" Bakura asked, glancing at him with an eyebrow raised in an interested fashion.

"If your kitchen had something other than TV-dinners and canned soup in it, I'd be happy to make dinner or something," Ryou said, giving Bakura a little shrug. "...Probably a lot happier than I'd be eating restaurant food every day."

"...Okay. Cool," Bakura said with a smile creeping over his lips. "We'll hit a grocery on the way back."

"Sounds like a plan," Ryou murmured, returning the smile just a little. "Oh... Can I use your phone to call my boss?" he asked.

"Yeah. Sure," Bakura picked up his phone off the dresser and tossed it to Ryou. Ryou felt himself stiffen momentarily, but managed to recover in time to catch the phone. Bakura was wearing an odd expression when Ryou glanced back at him briefly, and Ryou had a suspicion that he'd noticed the reflex. He turned his eyes quickly to the phone, opening the keypad. He listened to Bakura grab a few things out of the dresser and then wander over to the bathroom as he keyed in the bakery's number and held the phone to his ear.

"This is the Croissant Moon Bakery, today's special is whole-grain cranberry-nut muffins," Mister Foley answered cheerfully.

"Hi, Mister Foley, it's Ryou," Ryou said quietly.

"Ryou! How are you? Are you feeling better today?"

"Yes, thank you Mister Foley," Ryou said, nodding to empty space. "I- um- I'm not sick anymore, but I was wondering if you could get by without me today. See I- I had to move kind of suddenly..."

There was a short pause and then Mister Foley's voice seemed warmer than usual. "Ryou, you take the rest of the week off if you need it. Marcy's been begging me for a little over-time."

"Th-thank you, Mister Foley," Ryou mumbled, feeling embarrassed.

"You take care of yourself, Ryou. You're a good employee."

"Thank you, Mister Foley," Ryou said again.

000

Bakura glanced right and left as they walked down the tiled floor of the shopping-mall. The niche-market shops with their 'style' displayed in the windows and employees with sales commissions -who would fight to claim incoming customers- would probably have better service than the large department stores. The downside was that for most of them, ninety percent of their inventory would likely be based around a female figure. And then there were the ones that felt the need to saturate their sales-space with some truly repugnant 'fragrance,' to the point that it would spill out beyond their boundaries and pollute the mall for a ten yard radius around the entrance.

There was a constant drone of mixed chatter from all sides, punctuated and pierced every thirty-seconds or so by the shriek of a small child. Everyone walked at different speeds, making it near impossible to get past the slow-moving families who stood four-abreast, while being cut-off or mowed down by pairs of strutting teenagers. Bakura was thankful it wasn't December; this place _after_ the 'Christmas Shopping Season' was headache-inducing enough.

He finally spotted a storefront which displayed male clothing that wasn't 'skater' or 'metal' styled. "Here," he said quietly, pointing toward it and Ryou followed his gesture. They slipped out of the current and into the shop, and before they'd moved ten steps beyond the threshold, Bakura witnessed a race between two clerks to claim them.

"Hi! Is there anything I can help you with?" the winner, an eager, college-age boy wearing tight-fitting jeans and glasses with thick, black rims asked, bouncing up to them. The loser, a girl with shoulder-length brunet curls, slunk away in defeat.

"Yep." Bakura nodded toward Ryou. "New wardrobe. Advice?"

The boy -his nametag said 'Clyde'- looked thrilled. "Oh jeeze, I don't know, let's see..." he murmured, looking Ryou up and down and walking to the side slightly to check his profile. Ryou's cheeks grew a sweet shade of pink under Clyde's scrutinizing eyes. "Okay, I'm thinking dark, solid colors," Clyde said, tapping his chin. "And for cut- y'know you've got that great _svelte_ figure- blouses with an androgynous shape and maybe just a _little_ bit of ruffle."

Ryou pressed his lips together and glanced at Bakura, who shrugged a little and gave him a lop-sided grin. "So come over here... and do you know what size you are?" Clyde asked, walking briskly over towards a wall displaying hipsterish clothing.

"Thirty thirty-four," Ryou mumbled.

"Sorry, didn't catch that?" Clyde turned to look back at them.

"Thirty thirty-four," Ryou repeated in a bit louder voice.

"Hm- long legs," Clyde said with a grin. "You're lucky we cater to the tall-and-thin crowd." He started shuffling through the pants hanging against the wall, looking like he was going too fast to possibly read what the sizes were, and pulling out pairs to throw over his arm. "And let's come over here and look at some shirts," he said, spinning around almost without warning and striding over to a circular rack. "What do you think of... this style?" he asked, whipping around and holding a navy-blue button-down shirt out to Ryou.

Ryou stared at it blankly for a minute before looking away, the blush back in his cheeks and mumbling. "It's- it's really... girly..."

"Dial it back, Clyde," Bakura said, putting his hands into his pockets and rocking on his heels.

"Okay, sorry about that," Clyde said with a laugh, shoving the shirt back onto the rack and then pulling out another one, forest-green with a normal collar. "How about this one?"

"...Okay," Ryou said quietly.

Clyde picked out three more button-down shirts and a sleeveless mock turtle-neck before shooing Ryou into the changing rooms. Once Ryou had been shuffled into a stall, Clyde stepped back, grinning at the closed door for a minute before glancing over at Bakura. "He's _cute!_" Clyde noted.

"And _you're_ over the top," Bakura replied, not looking back at him. "The Queer-Eye routine isn't earning you extra points. You work in a boutique and you've managed to dress yourself in a not-hideous manner, so I'll assume you have a decent understanding of what you're doing. You don't need to spread it on so thick, this isn't cable-TV." He glanced back at Clyde, who now had his mouth twisted to the side a little and looked as though he were calculating in his head as he considered Bakura. "He was already uncomfortable _before_ we came in here."

Clyde nodded. "Noted," he said and then looked back towards the changing stall. "How's it looking in there?" he called.

"Um- I..." There was a hesitant pause and then the doorknob turned and Ryou peeked around the corner, looking immeasurably self-conscious as he slowly stepped clear of the door, wearing the green shirt and a pair of tight, black jeans.

Clyde got a sparkle in his eye and looked like he was about to offer some helpful commentary, but Bakura cut him off, asking, "Is it comfortable?"

"Y- I guess..." Ryou said, looking down and fidgeting.

"It looks good on you," Bakura said.

"Thanks..." Ryou whispered, looking away, his cheeks pink again.

000

Ryou stared at the large tiles ahead of him as he walked, carrying a large bag made of thick, recycled paper and filled with folded pieces of clothing. Clyde had loaded him with half a dozen tight-fitting T-shirts in addition to the button-downs and turtle-necks –for casual wear, he'd said- and he'd ended up working five pairs of pants and a wool peacoat into the sale. That was before Bakura had brought up the need for white button-down shirts for work.

The digital letters displayed above the cash-register had informed Ryou that Bakura just bought him almost five-hundred dollars worth of clothing. Admittedly, Bakura did seem to have money to throw around, but the thought of somebody spending that kind of money on things for Ryou made his stomach churn.

"So, now you need shoes, socks, underwear... anything else?"

"I- I have shoes," Ryou protested lamely, glancing at his beat-up sneakers.

"Those aren't good for work though, are they?" Bakura pointed out.

Ryou bit his lip, he couldn't argue that, and it was also a little disconcerting how well Bakura must have taken note of what Ryou had been wearing at the bus-stop.

"Those don't look very warm either. Let's get some weather-proof sneakers or something too," Bakura suggested. "...I want you to have the things you need," he added quietly.

"I'm fine. I'm really fine. This is... a lot of stuff," Ryou mumbled.

"Y'know, if you're cooking stuff instead of me buying all my meals, that's going to save me a lot of money," Bakura pointed out. Oddly, that did make Ryou feel more comfortable. This wasn't just absurd amounts of money being spent on him now; it was a barter.

After another hundred dollars, they tucked the bags and shoeboxes into the small trunk of Bakura's corvette and carefully escaped the mall's parking-garage. Bakura clicked a few buttons on his smart-phone, as he waited for a break in traffic to turn out onto the road, and then spoke into the receiver with a flat, loud voice. "Grocery."

"..._Nearest locations for 'grocery' are: Stan's Market, Whole Foods and Safeway_," a synthesized, feminine voice responded from the phone after a few seconds of processing.

"Do you know any of those places?" Bakura asked in a normal voice, and Ryou glanced over at him.

"Um, Stan's is a small, neighborhood store, the prices are higher than a chain like Safeway and the main draw is that it's convenient for the people living near it," Ryou explained; he'd gone there twice before and then dismissed it. "Whole Foods is a chain-store that specializes in organic things and neo-hippy kinds of food, and Safeway is kind of a baseline of normal."

"Okay, so I guess we should go to Safeway then?" Bakura asked, sounding just slightly uncertain.

"I would," Ryou said, nodding slightly.

"Okay," he lifted the phone back near his mouth as he stopped for a red light. "Safeway."

The phone was silent for a few seconds, before ordering, "_Turn right onto Cordata Boulevard_."

Bakura flicked on his blinker.

000

Bakura paused, key inches from the front door, and listened. There were voices coming from inside the condo. He frowned softly and listened for a moment. The voices were excessively lively and soon an exaggerated springing sound, distinctive of slap-stick cartoons, interrupted the dialogue and was quickly followed by comical screaming. Bakura relaxed and a small smile started to play across his lips. Then he remembered Ryou, standing just behind him, and forming smile shifted into a small scowl.

He slid the key into the lock and opened the door as quietly as possible, then looked back over his shoulder to Ryou and pressed a finger to his lips in a silencing gesture. Bakura set one of the grocery bags in the path of the door to hold it open, so it wouldn't make another sound, and then crept to the corner and peered around it into the living room. A ponytail and the top of a blond head was visible over the back of the couch. Bakura wet his lip absently before slinking out across the carpeted space, as the couch's occupant giggled at the TV.

Bakura came to a stop just behind the couch and stood up straight, then asked, in a slightly louder than normal voice, "Having fun, Goldilocks?"

Rebecca shrieked and jumped. Popcorn went flying out of a paper microwave-bag. Her startled yelp quickly turned into laughing as she scrambled around on her knees and then hopped right up and stood on the cushions, throwing her arms around Bakura's neck. "You jerk! You almost made me _pee_ myself!" Rebecca exclaimed.

"As fascinating as your incontinence is, I can't help but be distracted by wondering _what_ exactly inspired you to visit today." Bakura caught Rebecca under the arms and pulled her halfway off the couch, so that she was helplessly hammocked between his arm and the back-rest, and scrubbed viciously at the crown of her head with his knuckles. "Or should I say _who? _Did _Yami_ tell you to check up on me?"

"Ow! _Ow!_" Rebecca complained, struggling. "Since when do I need an _excuse?_" she demanded, slapping at Bakura.

Bakura glanced over his shoulder to see Ryou bringing in an armload of shopping bags and setting them on the floor just at the edge of the living room, then giving Bakura and Rebecca a curious look before ducking back into the hall and grabbing the rest of the bags. Bakura sighed and dropped Rebecca on her feet. "Don't even try it, kid," he warned. "I know you're in cahoots with that bastard."

Rebecca crossed her arms and stuck her tongue out, giving Bakura a thoroughly scathing look before turning her head away and sniffing. "You're _way_ paranoid, Bakura! _Maybe_ I just wanted to come show you how _I_ got the _top score_ on my chemistry project!" she reached over the back of the couch, grabbing a clear, plastic folder from inside of the pink backpack laying there, and shoved it in Bakura's face. "BAM!"

"Yeah and _maybe_ you forgot that you posted all over your Facebook about getting that project back _two weeks ago_," Bakura shot back. "BAM!"

"_Whatever!_" Rebecca sniffed. "I been _busy!_" She leaned around Bakura and peered at Ryou, who could be heard looking for places to put the newly acquired groceries.

"Yeah, I'm _sure_ that's it and this little check-up has _nothing_ to do with any Mutous," Bakura snorted. "Who the _hell_ do you think you're _fooling_, brat?"

"Hey! Heeeeey! I'm Rebecca! What's _your_ name?" Rebecca demanded, ducking under Bakura's arm and trying to scramble past him, only to be caught around the waist and hauled up off her feet.

"Um..." Ryou looked back and forth between Bakura and the struggling fourteen-year-old. Bakura shrugged and made a face. "I'm Ryou."

"Nice to meet'cha!" Rebecca exclaimed, throwing her arms up and -most likely deliberately- smacking Bakura in the face. "Hey..." her eyes widened a little, observing the groceries and shopping bags and looking at Ryou with intense curiosity. "Did you _move in_ with this jerk?"

Ryou flushed a little and looked helpless. "Uh... Um..." he cast Bakura a pleading sort of look.

"Stop it," Bakura ordered, pinching Rebecca's nose.

Rebecca started giggling, her voice coming out at a particularly obnoxious pitch with her nostrils blocked. "You _cradle_-robber! He looks young enough to be _my_ boyfriend!" she declared.

Bakura dropped her abruptly and Rebecca stumbled and landed on her knees with a wince. "_God_, you're a pest," Bakura groaned as she glared up at him.

Rebecca stuck her tongue out again and rolled to her feet, hopping across the room to the kitchen island before Bakura could recapture her. Bakura ran a hand through his hair with resigned irritability and fished the remote off the couch to turn off the oppressively _bright_ cartoon Rebecca had been watching. "So how'd you meet my uncle?" Rebecca was demanding, climbing onto one of the bar-stools to watch Ryou put away groceries.

"Uncle?" Ryou asked, looking from her to Bakura in a way that suggested he was searching for _any _kind of resemblance.

"Her grandfather took me in," Bakura explained, walking over and leaning against the counter. "Rebecca, clean up your popcorn."

"_Pfffff!_" Rebecca puffed bitterly before jumping off the stool and turning back towards the couch. She paused for a moment and then ran around the counter into the kitchen, pulling the garbage out from under the sink and taking the opportunity to get a better view of Ryou, who flushed a bit darker under the scrutiny. "You're _cute!_" she announced, picking up the garbage and carrying it out to the living room with her.

Ryou watched her and then glanced back to Bakura, who shrugged and rolled his eyes. "I gave her a key," he explained. "Now she shows up whenever she feels like it. Guess I've learned _my_ lesson."

"I see." Ryou nodded.

"And I got over ninety-percent on an end of term test and/or project!" Rebecca shouted from behind the couch where she was hunting stray popcorn puffs. "Which means my choice of restaurants, _if I recall!_"

"Ahahahaha!" Bakura threw her a sarcastic laugh. "Try calling ahead, brat!"

"I wanna get sushi at the Shelton!" Rebecca demanded, her head popping up over the couch.

"You're not dressed for the Shelton!" Bakura shot back.

"I stuffed my blue dress in my bag and wore my nice shoes today!" Rebecca countered.

"Good for you! You can be the best-dressed girl on the bus ride _home_." Bakura leaned his elbow on the counter and rested his cheek against his fist.

"You're a jerk!" Rebecca shouted, standing and picking the trash can up again to carry with her as she walked back toward the kitchen.

"And you're a brat. What's your point?" Bakura snorted.

"Mom's got a business dinner tonight, and Daddy's still on his trip," Rebecca pouted.

"And your boyfriend's been hospitalized with midgetitus..."

"I wanted to hang out with _you!_" Rebecca whined.

"Well I'm _not _inflicting the Shelton on Ryou tonight. He's been sick," Bakura said firmly.

"You were-" Rebecca started to ask, giving Ryou a concerned look.

"I- We got plenty of chicken. I could make enough for Rebecca. It wouldn't be a problem," Ryou cut her off.

"Nngh..." Bakura dropped his head against the counter. He didn't look at Rebecca, but he could picture quite clearly in his mind the way she undoubtedly threw her fists in the air as she let out a triumphant little sound.

"I- I mean..." Ryou faltered.

"It's fine," Bakura sighed. He would have lost the argument eventually anyway.

"Damn _right_ it is!" Rebecca crowed.

000

Rebecca was very chatty and had a great talent for asking questions that Ryou didn't want to answer. Bakura thumped the top of her head several times but it didn't seem to put her out at all. Ryou thought that the dynamic between them was more reminiscent of siblings than uncle and niece, but he supposed that Rebecca was probably closer to Bakura in age than her mother must be. She revealed herself to be 'almost fifteen' as Ryou was pan-frying chicken breasts. The same age Amane would have been.

She started to chatter blithely about her school as he was adding the lemon and rosemary. "It's got middle school _and_ high school in the same building. It's only got, like, a tenth as many students as the public high school though, and part of the senior's curriculum is teaching classes and stuff to the younger kids." Rebecca explained. "They plan out what they want to teach us and then they work on it for a couple months and then they teach on Fridays and they do some pretty cool stuff."

Ryou nodded as she spoke, covering the chicken and turning the heat down before giving the potatoes a shake and going to get lettuce from the crisper drawer to make a salad.

"What high school did you go to, Ryou? One of the local ones or did you move here from out of town?" Rebecca called, making Ryou pause for a minute in the process of digging out a carrot and the paper bag of mushrooms.

"Um, I went to Riverside," Ryou said, not adding that it had only been for a little over a year.

"That's up north, right?" Rebecca asked but didn't wait for him to respond. "It's one of the really big schools, isn't it? That's neat, I always wondered what it would be like to be in a class of, like, five-hundred people. There's only forty-seven eighth-graders at my school, and we're one of the bigger classes. I think Yuugi's class only has thirty-nine. I mean, I know we're getting a lot better attention from our teachers and things and better academics or whatever, but I kinda wish there were more people, y'know?"

"I suppose," Ryou said with a shrug, tearing romaine leaves into fork-sized pieces.

"Hey, how'd you meet Bakura?" she asked suddenly and Ryou faltered again, staring down at the salad.

He turned to the potatoes again and gave them another shake. "At the bus-stop," he answered.

"Really?" Rebecca looked puzzled. "I didn't think he ever took the bus."

Ryou shrugged, and glanced over to where the man in question was half-sitting against the back of the couch in deep conversation with his phone, an irritated expression on his face. Ryou's attention was pulled back to Rebecca when she sighed and commented in a more subdued voice. "...You seem really nice."

"Um," Ryou mumbled, turning to the potatoes again to avoid looking at Rebecca as he felt his face heat up a little. "Thanks."

"I mean it," she insisted. "I'm really really glad you're not a jerk. Y'know his ex- they were living together for, like, three _years_ and then _two days_ after Grandpa died, this guy tells Bakura that he's holding him back and jumps on a plane to Africa. Freaking _Africa!_ I mean, what the _hell_, man?" Rebecca glared at the glass of orange juice sitting on the counter in front of her. "Who _does_ that?"

"I never liked him, though," Rebecca confessed, glancing back to check that Bakura was still distracted with his phone conversation and then leaning forward with a conspiratorial air. "I hardly ever saw him, because whenever I came to hang out with Bakura, he'd disappear. And he never came to Thanksgiving or Christmas or anything." She grimaced disdainfully. "Bakura just said family situations made him _uncomfortable_. What_ever_. It's not like Grandpa or Mom cared that Bakura's gay, they wouldn't have gotten all weird if he'd brought his boyfriend home or something."

Ryou turned the heat off under the potatoes and stared at the covered pan the chicken was cooking in. Rebecca's chosen topic of conversation was managing to make him more uncomfortable than any of the questions he'd avoided answering earlier. "I don't know, maybe his parents disowned him over it or something and that's why he doesn't like 'family situations'. I've heard that minorities get a lot more upset about homosexuality. But _still_, it's like, Bakura was really _serious_ about him and the guy just doesn't even try to-"

"Rebecca! Are you being a _pest?_" Bakura demanded, making Rebecca jump. He still had the phone in his hand, apparently having just hung up, and he was glaring daggers at his niece.

"N-no!" Rebecca shot back, flushing. "I was telling Ryou about the- the play at school last November. 'Cause it was really fun!"

"Right," Bakura snorted, walking back over to the counter. "And I'm sure Ryou could tell me which play it was."

Ryou bit his lip and pulled out a medium-sized casserole to put the potatoes into. "...Shakespeare?" he guessed, figuring he was covering a pretty wide range of high school plays there.

"Grease. Good try, Ryou," Bakura said, grabbing Rebecca around the shoulders and delivering a vicious noogie, which caused her to shriek. "You, set the table," he ordered after he let her go. Rebecca grumbled and stomped around the island to start poking through cabinets, trying to find where things were. "Sorry. She can be a _pain!_" Bakura said to Ryou, but emphasized the last word for Rebecca's benefit.

"It's all right," Ryou mumbled, picking up the casserole and walking it over to the table. He felt guilty having heard such personal information about Bakura, even though he hadn't asked or done anything to solicit the gossip from Rebecca.

"Yeah! I wasn't _bothering _him!" Rebecca insisted, following Ryou out with silverware rattling on top of a short stack of plates.

Once they were all settled at the table, Rebecca started asking awkward questions again. "So how long have you two been dating?" she asked, cutting her chicken into pieces.

"Rebecca," Bakura growled. "_Nosey_."

"It's not _nosey!_" Rebecca protested. "It's a perfectly _reasonable_ question!"

"Drop it."

"_God!_ You're so _touchy!_" she complained. "What do you think I'm going to do? Run and tell everyone in the world that you're shacked up with a sweet young thang?" Bakura glared at her, but Rebecca ignored it. "You don't want Mom to know about him. That's it, isn't it? Seriously, Bakura, she's not gonna have an _aneurism_. She's been really worried about you since Akefia-"

"_Drop. It_." Bakura narrowed his eyes.

"_Wow, Ryou! This is some _GREAT _chicken!_" Rebecca shouted, slamming the end of her fork down against the tabletop and glaring back up at her uncle. "_So how about them Yankees? Did'jya see the weather today? Ha! Crazy!_"

"Stop it," Bakura said, turning back to his plate and skewering some pieces of potato.

"So how old are you anyway, Ryou?" Rebecca asked, her volume back at normal but her tone still strained with unobscured irritation.

Ryou glanced to Bakura, who had frozen with the fork halfway in his mouth and pursed his lips. "Um, seventeen," Ryou mumbled, looking back at Rebecca.

Rebecca raised an eyebrow and gave Bakura a meaningful look, before continuing with more small-talk. "And what kind of hobbies do you like?" She picked at her salad.

"Art," Ryou mumbled.

"Neat!" Rebecca actually looked interested now. "What kind of art? Paintings and sculptures and stuff?"

"I- I like to draw and I like a lot of small crafts... origami, model-making, carving, that kind of thing..."

"Origami- actually, you're name sounds really Japanese, is that right?" she asked.

"My mom was Japanese," Ryou said softly. "And since we had an English last-name, she wanted my sister and I to have Japanese first-names."

"Cool!" Rebecca smiled, looking pleased and engaged with the new topic. "So you're Japanese/English? I gotta say, that's a _pretty _combination!"

"Th-thank you," Ryou stammered.

"My mom's English and Welsh and my dad's German," Rebecca offered up. "Of course, both their families have been in the states a lotta generations, so none of that's direct from the old-sod."

"I see." Ryou nodded.

000

"That was _not_ cool," Bakura told Rebecca after she closed the car door. "Don't butt in on my personal life."

Rebecca snorted, strapping herself in. "Don't be so secretive. I'm your family. I care about you."

"You were making _him_ uncomfortable and _I'm_ not ready to deal with this, Rebecca." Bakura turned over the engine and released the break.

"What aren't you ready for?" Rebecca demanded. "Another boyfriend? Is he your rebound? He's moved in and you're having commitment issues or something?"

"Okay, number one: that is none of your God damned business. Number two: no. He needed a place to live. Number three: shut up." Bakura glared ahead of him as he pulled out of the parking garage.

"...Did you pick him up off the street?" Rebecca said quietly. "You bought him a whole bunch of clothes today, and 'he needed a place to live'? You _picked up_ a homeless teenager, _didn't_ you? You know that's probably the creepiest thing ever, _right?_"

"I will refer you to number one and number three," Bakura said through gritted teeth. "I am _not_ talking to you about this. And he was _not_ on the _street_."

"...Did you know his name before you took him home?" Rebecca asked in a dark tone.

"_Yes!_"

"But he _is_ jail-bate."

"God _damn it_, Rebecca!" Bakura snapped. "Knock it _off!_"

"...Is he a hooker?"

"_No!_" Bakura cast her a glare as he paused at a stoplight.

"Well I like him."

Bakura paused, thrown slightly. "What?"

"I like him. So you'd better not break his heart or something," Rebecca said firmly. "Because this _reeks_ of rebound."

Bakura was silent for the next few minutes until he pulled up in front of a nice townhouse. "You're home. Get out of my car," he ordered. "...And don't tell Shannon."

Rebecca smirked. "Don't worry. I won't sic Mom-zilla on you," she said as she unbuckled her seatbelt and pushed the door open. "But I'm not giving up either. And just for the record, Ryou's about a billion times better than Akefia."

"Stop it." Bakura glared at the steering wheel.

"'Night," Rebecca said before closing the door.

Bakura watched her hop up the walk and onto the porch, where she fussed with her keys for a moment and then opened the door. As she closed it behind her, he put the car back into gear and pulled away from the curb. After a few seconds, the sudden silence got nauseating and Bakura punched in the knob on the radio, bringing some loud, angry nu-metal to life.

When he got back to his condo, he found Ryou curled up on the couch with one of the Picasso books, freshly bathed, apparently, and wearing Bakura's flannel pants again along with one of his new T-shirts. "Sorry about... _that_," Bakura sighed.

Ryou shook his head a little, looking down at the book. "It's all right. She was... nice."

Bakura puffed out a tired laugh and shook his head. "She makes me exceedingly glad I'm unlikely to father a child," he said and walked over to throw himself down on the couch as well.

"That's rather cruel," Ryou commented, a small smile flickering on his lips.

"She's so _annoying_..." Bakura groaned, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. "...I'm sorry if she asked you anything weird while I was on the phone."

"No. It's okay," Ryou dismissed quietly.

"...I'm tired," Bakura complained.

"Do you want to go to bed now?" Ryou asked, and Bakura could feel and hear him scooting closer.

"...Yeah..." Bakura agreed.

"Do you want to have sex?" Ryou asked, scooting up right next to Bakura. Bakura opened his eyes and looked at Ryou. His cheeks were a little flushed and there was an amorous tint to his expression. Was it a put-on, or was he horny?

He was a teenager; he was probably horny. Bakura pushed himself forward and kissed him for a moment. "I'll take a shower," he murmured and received a little nod in reply, even as Ryou's eyes were still closed and he was still leaned in. Bakura kissed him softly again and then climbed up off the couch. "I'll be quick."

000

Ryou dropped his pajamas on the floor next to the bed and crawled under the covers to stay warm while he waited and to keep the purple-brown marks on his skin covered until the lights were out. He lounged there and listened to the water in the pipes as the shower ran. Ryou's hand gently rested against his lips as he idly tapped a rhythm against his front teeth with a thumbnail. His mind drifted to the other night.

He almost felt guilty. If he were to take his current circumstances at face-value, it really seemed like he was getting the better end of the deal all around. Or rather, that there just wasn't a down-side to this arrangement. Ryou could feel heat in his face and tingling anticipation remembering their previous nocturnal encounter. He closed his eyes and shivered slightly. That was the most satisfying orgasm he could remember having. All the more so for the fact that the entire session had been painless.

The water stopped running and Ryou turned his hand a little, biting down lightly on the first knuckle of his index finger. He wondered how long Bakura intended to wait before deeming Ryou penetrable. He hadn't felt it today when he was walking or moving about like he had the previous two. Cuts in his mouth had always healed fast, and that was also a mucus membrane, so maybe this would heal quickly too. And then maybe he'd never have to think about it again.

Ryou squeezed his eyes shut and bit down on his knuckle. He wasn't going to think about that now. He wasn't going to ruin tonight with thinking about anything else. He was going to think about Bakura. Bakura's skin was going to taste clean, fresh from the shower, and his mouth was going to be hot and wet and his shoulder-muscles were going to be taut and way too fascinating. Ryou was definitely going to suck him off this time; he wondered what it would be like with someone circumcised.

His breath was getting quick and his face and body were feeling so warm he wanted to push off the covers, almost -but not quite- forgetting his bruises. He'd successfully banished all thoughts of life before coming to his new home by the time the bathroom door opened and Bakura stepped into the bedroom in his bathrobe.

"You're all pink," Bakura observed with a lop-sided grin. "You're not getting started without me, are you?"

"Considering it," Ryou returned, and noticed that his voice sounded rather breathy. "If you take any longer getting over here, I might have to."

Bakura laughed and flicked off the lights. "Pushy pushy," he chuckled in the darkness and Ryou pushed the covers off of himself and crawled a few feet to meet Bakura, as he climbed onto the bed, with a kiss. Bakura's hands slid up Ryou's arms and around his shoulders, as though tracing him, and then eventually landed with the right hand curled around the back of Ryou's neck, fingers sunk into his hair, and the left hand resting on Ryou's hip for a while before Bakura finally pushed Ryou down onto his back and hovered over him, kissing and nibbling at Ryou's neck.

Ryou sighed lustily and fanned his fingers out over Bakura's shoulder-blades. He could feel the muscles over them shift back and forth with Bakura's every movement, as he supported his weight on his arms. It was so _nice_, Ryou almost forgot to make good on his intention to reciprocate the more than satisfying fellatio Bakura had given him last time. He seemed to have lost his chance for the moment, however, as Bakura moved himself between Ryou's thighs.

"Aaohhh..." Ryou breathed a little whisper of a moan as Bakura brought their erections together, and then he was vaguely aware that his vocalizations were gaining in volume as Bakura started to grind against him and pant near Ryou's neck.

Frottage had never been good enough for _him_. Because it just wasn't sex if Ryou wasn't being bent over a piece of furniture or shoved up against a counter or wall, or forced to his knees or degraded some other way. No. He wasn't thinking about that. He was thinking about Bakura's rock-hard cock rubbing against his. He was thinking about the hot breath crashing like waves against his neck. He was thinking about the smell of fresh, new sweat, heady and salty and not yet soured. He was thinking about the friction of their damp skin sliding together.

Bakura moaned against Ryou's throat. Ryou probably wouldn't have been able to hear it over his own appreciative ruckus, but as it was, he felt the vibrations of Bakura's voice through the sensitive skin of his neck, and the sensation was ridiculously aphrodisic. Ryou caught the side of Bakura's jaw and pulled him into a long, hot kiss as their bodies continued to rock together.

In the constant, slow motion, Ryou forgot his plans, and after he eventually orgasmed, Bakura following him over moments later, he couldn't bring himself to feel disappointed that he'd failed to get mouth-fucked tonight. It was strange; it felt oddly calm, sweet, comfortable, and he lay afterwards, panting and clinging to Bakura, wondering if an experience was allowed to be exciting and calming at the same time.

000

000

Name-note the second: Yeah, I'm using the fanon 'Akefia' for TK Bakura because if I'm having three Bakuras running around this universe I'm going to need three separate names. So that probably didn't trip readers up like Marid might have, but I know there are those who get offended by use of the so-not-canon name, so I'll ask you to forgive the fanon-ism in light of the logical need for a third name. I've kind of thrown out all my usual name protocol for this AU. My regular readers have probably noticed that I'm spelling Bakura's name kana-style instead Egypting it up like I usually do. Fun-fact, Bakura, with that spelling, is a Sanskrit name, one you'd most likely run into in Pakistan or India.

So, why is Rebecca there? I was thinking that I needed an old man (who wasn't Sugoroku) to be Bakura's mentor; and there's really only two old men besides Sugoroku, there's Dr. Hawkins and Aknadin. I didn't go with Aknadin because he's a jerk and we've all seen what happens when you put those two together. The apocalypse. After I decided that, I started poking at Rebecca, thinking how she'd fit in, because she _had_ to fit in if I was going to be using Dr. Hawkins, and she ended up being pretty fun. I've added some attitude quirks to her that come from hanging out around Bakura, but she was a pretty high-attitude little girl to begin with (I guess because the writers were all 'she's supposed to be American so she needs to be really pushy!')

Anyway, questions and comments welcome and encouraged. 3


	4. Chapter 4

Late 90s alternative was on the radio when the alarm went off. Bakura drew in a deep breath and let it out in a sigh, sleepily taking stock of himself before he would attempt the arduous journey of rolling over to turn off the alarm. He found that he was wrapped around Ryou again and his face seemed to be buried in Ryou's hair. He smiled softly, feeling Ryou stir and squirm in momentary confusion before relaxing against Bakura.

Bakura sighed again and rolled onto his back, trying not to disturb Ryou much as he flailed and slapped the clock. He let his arm drop down onto the mattress and just lay there for a while. Ryou moved and slipped an arm around him, leaning into Bakura. He could feel Ryou's chest puffing and then the warm breath fanning out over his shoulder as he listened to Ryou yawning.

"...Good morning," Bakura whispered and then felt like an idiot for it.

"Mhm..." Ryou mumbled and yawned again. Seconds stretched into silence and then Ryou shifted, not really sitting up, but lifting himself about halfway there, and hovering wobblingly over Bakura. "...What's on for today?" he asked in a half-alert voice.

"Mm," Bakura grunted, grinding the heel of his hand against his eye and pushing his palm slowly back into his hair as he tried to organize his thoughts. "Oh. I have a meeting today," he remembered and yawned. The fog of sleep slowly rolled back across Bakura's mind, revealing pertinent details as it receded. "I'm going to be gone for a while, and I don't have a spare key... I should have taken Rebecca's away..." he sighed and let his still raised arm drop back onto the pillow behind him. "Will you be okay staying in for a few hours or something?"

"...Sure. No problem," Ryou said softly, his voice a little raspy from sleeping. And maybe from all the sexy sexy screaming before that.

"I'll get a key made for you today, so you can go in and out when you want," Bakura promised.

"...Thank you..." Ryou's voice dipped down quieter than before. He was getting awkward about such a practical little thing? "When are you going?"

"My meeting's at eleven. I've got time for a pretty leisurely breakfast and such," Bakura answered with a crunched shrug.

"...And such," Ryou repeated in a whisper, and his fingers started tracing slow lines against Bakura's chest.

Bakura's breath caught for an instant and his mind started to race in circles that were becoming disturbingly familiar of late. Was Ryou being _deliberately_ suggestive? Maybe he wasn't; maybe he was just parroting because he wasn't quite awake. Why was he _so_ _infatuating?_ Bakura's thoughts paused as Ryou leaned down and kissed him. Apparently it was deliberate.

"...You're affectionate this morning," Bakura whispered when Ryou drew back again.

"Shouldn't I be?"

Bakura shook his head. "I like it," he said.

"...I like fooling around with you," Ryou explained softly. "You're really good at it."

Bakura couldn't stop himself from laughing at the candid statement. He found Ryou's arm and ran a hand slowly up its length. "Skill is nothing without inspiration, of course," he murmured.

Ryou snorted and shifted, moving a leg across to the other side of Bakura's hips and straddling him while leaning a bit lower, pressing their stomachs together. Bakura drew a slow breath, his mind surveying and mapping out the position of Ryou's body, where every limb was resting, the distance of his face from Bakura's, the morning-erection pressing against Bakura's skin as he rapidly started to feel warmer and warmer.

Ryou leaned down and kissed him again, this time deeper, more lingering. Bakura ran his fingers slowly over Ryou's back, appreciating every feature of the topography. He was such an effeminate little thing. Bakura's brow pinched slightly as he wondered whether Ryou was naturally that thin or if there might be some undernourishment issues at play. He had a delicate build, but perhaps his ribs shouldn't have been quite so easy to find.

Ryou paused after a while, a finger turning circles around a lock of Bakura's hair. "...You don't mind this?" he asked in a soft, curious voice.

"What?" Bakura breathed, stroking his thumb over the bump of Ryou's hip-bone.

"You're on the bottom."

Bakura grimaced and let out a snort. "Oh please don't mistake me for an insecure, half-closetted macho-moron," he said.

Ryou let out a sudden laugh and his body rubbed against Bakura's with the bounce of his diaphragm, making it hard to pay attention to what he was saying, or anything beyond his beguiling flesh. "You don't believe in roles within a relationship?" he asked softly, and the laugh could still be heard in his voice. "You're taking care of me, right? Doesn't that entitle you to be the _man_ or something?"

"Now that's just sexist," Bakura chuckled and felt a swell of delight and lust as Ryou laughed against him once more. He groaned, "_God_, you're whole body wiggles when you do that!"

Ryou giggled, a little more restrained, maybe embarrassed. "I've totally gotten off track with all this talking, haven't I?" he said, amusement shining in his tone. "I'll get back to it then. I-" he faltered for a split second as his voice filled with embarrassment. "I want to suck you off."

Bakura was very proud of himself for not laughing, which probably would have exacerbated Ryou's embarrassment, but it was just so funny to hear such frank statements in such a nervous voice. "I- okay," Bakura said, feeling himself grinning, mostly from amusement but also from a rush of _yes yes yes yes_. "I can go give it a quick wash," he suggested.

"You're sweet," Ryou said with a giggle of nervous amusement. "Don't worry about it."

"Okay," Bakura murmured, his breath quickening again as Ryou pushed himself up a fraction and started to crawl backwards, the covers bunching up around him as he went. Bakura shifted his legs to let Ryou crouch between his knees, and dropped his head back into the pillow. He closed his eyes and let out a slow, shuddering breath as Ryou's hand found his forming erection and fingers closed around sensitive flesh.

"Nnnn..." Bakura groaned as Ryou pumped him slowly, and then he could feel Ryou shifting position further, dropping his weight down to his elbow and lowering his upper-body. Ryou blew across the head and Bakura breathed a lusty sigh, which turned into a soft moan as Ryou's tongue followed the ghost of his breath and taste-buds tugged against skin.

An analytical little voice at the back of Bakura's head noted that Ryou was quite good at this, while Bakura panted and soaked in the sensations. Ryou deep-throated him seemingly effortlessly and his fingers toyed maddeningly with Bakura's balls. Ryou slid back until just the head was in his mouth and hummed softly, the vibrations of his vocal cords buzzing over his lips and making Bakura let out a straining moan.

Ryou kept working him damn near _expertly_ as the pressure built until Bakura felt himself near the breaking point. His left hand located Ryou's shoulder and gave a sharp squeeze. "F-five second warning," he gasped and Ryou's lips once again slid back the length of Bakura's erection, stopping just behind the head and hanging there as Bakura released into his mouth.

Bakura's lust-fogged mind noted blearily that Ryou swallowed as he drew back, and that that was very sexy, as Bakura's muscles all relaxed, leaving him as a human-shaped puddle upon his bed. Ryou sat back up and his hand softly petted Bakura's hip while Bakura panted helplessly for a while.

When his muscles again agreed to cooperate, Bakura pushed himself up and caught Ryou around the waist, and pulled him into his lap. Bakura kissed him deeply, tasting his own fluids on Ryou's tongue, as he curled his arms around Ryou's back and held him captive. Ryou kissed back lustily, his thighs pinching tight around Bakura's hips and his own erection pressing against Bakura's stomach.

After a few minutes of wallowing in selfish sensuality, Bakura slid a hand between their bodies and found Ryou's erection. Ryou mewled softly against his lips and then moved his face into the curve of Bakura's neck and shoulder, sighing and digging his fingers into Bakura's hair. "Mmm... You want to take a shower together?" Bakura asked, gently stroking his fingers up Ryou's length.

"Su- um-" Ryou faltered. "... Maybe another time?" he mumbled.

Because he was too body-shy to be somewhere well lit, where Bakura could see him. Bakura wondered if it was because of bruises or some more complex hang-ups Ryou had about his appearance. He didn't seem to be aware, or at least at terms with the fact that he was lovely. Bakura forced back a disappointed sigh that was trying to escape and kissed Ryou's ear. "'Kay," he whispered and tightened his hand around Ryou's erection, pumping him as Ryou moaned into Bakura's neck.

000

Ryou sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, gazing down at the breakfast dishes. It wasn't much, breakfast had been eggs and toast, and Bakura had seemed to appreciate the simplicity. Ryou smiled to himself; maybe the post-coital high was pushing his spirits to elevated levels, but he had to believe that he was also feeling genuinely... good. Hopeful, maybe? If what he'd been presented with so far wasn't all a façade, then he was definitely in the best place he could remember being since childhood.

Of course, being a gangster's moll was probably a kind of precarious position. Was it even okay for Bakura to have a _male_ moll? Ryou frowned softly and leaned forward, resting his elbows against the table. No, it must not be a problem, because Bakura hadn't been worried about being seen in public with Ryou yesterday, doing domestic things like shopping and such. And his family was well aware, clearly, if his teenage niece was comfortable interviewing potentials for her uncle.

And the other day, the man at the sidewalk café, Yami, had spoken as though knowledgeable of Bakura's preference. 'That's your emergency? Love at first sight?' It had obviously been a joke, but still, it belied an ease, or at least joviality, about Bakura's sexuality. And whatever business Bakura was in, Yami must be a part of it. He was probably the person Bakura was going to meet today, since their meeting on Wednesday was obviously cut short.

It must be fine. The atmosphere was relaxed and the fact that Ryou was male had hardly even been mentioned in the past two days. Bakura must be part of the progressive, forward-thinking mob. That decided, Ryou finally pushed himself away from the breakfast table and picked up his plate before walking around and getting Bakura's as well. He glanced at the microwave clock as he carried the dishes to the sink and rinsed them off. It was almost eleven, Bakura would be having his meeting soon; Ryou wondered how long he'd be gone.

Ryou slid the plates into the dishwasher racks and fetched the skillet from the stove, his brow pulling a little tight as he did. How long _would_ it take? Would Bakura be home by dinner time? Was he really just having a meeting or was he going to be breaking into a maximum security vault or something? If he were arrested or shot, how long would it take for Ryou to find out...?

Ryou shook his head and scrubbed burnt egg off of teflon. Bakura had to be a very successful -and therefore very smart and careful- whatever he was, because of the luxury he could afford to surround himself with. He was a trained professional, not a petty thief. He knew what he was doing and he'd been doing it for a while. He wasn't going to suddenly get caught now. Ryou propped the clean pan on the counter to air-dry and shook the excess water off his hands into the sink before picking up the hand towel to wipe away the rest.

Hours to kill alone in the condo, without poking into anything that might contain some information pertaining to Bakura's 'work', or any other exploring that might count as snooping. The TV set-up might have internet access, if Ryou could figure out how to work it, and there was the collection of art books which held interest, although Ryou was really more interested in method than history or price. And there was a massive bathtub with jets and everything in the bathroom.

Ryou smiled to himself. It would be like a hot-tub only without the constant awareness that the water surrounding him had contained an untold number of bodies before he got in it. Or the potential of chlorine coloring his hair.

000

"You are a _dick_," Bakura announced, dropping onto the opposite end of a park bench from Yami.

Yami raised an eyebrow and held a mostly full bag of kettle-corn out to him, asking, "Are you still talking about that?"

"_Rebecca!_ You sent _Rebecca_ to check up on me!" Bakura snarled, ignoring the proffered snack. "Using _kids_ to do your dirty-work? That's _low_."

"I would hardly consider visiting a close relative to be 'dirty work'," Yami rolled his eyes and shrugged, retracting the kettle-corn. "She happened to be studying with Yuugi and I simply asked if she knew whether you were seeing someone. I really don't think my actions merit such a tantrum."

"_God_, you piss me off!"

"In any event, it turns out fortunate that we didn't finish our meeting on Wednesday," Yami said in a calm, businesslike tone. "Mister Dunstan was trying to low-ball us. The job is quite a bit more complicated than he led me to believe."

"Did you call it off?" Bakura asked.

"No, I had a chat with him and he's agreed to pay what the contract is actually worth," Yami said, picking up a few kernels and popping them into his mouth.

Bakura started slightly as a pair of lips, greasy with lipstick, met his cheek and an arm came around his shoulders. "Hi, honey, sorry I'm late!" a cheerful, female voice chirped.

"Well, considering I didn't know you were coming..." Bakura snorted, giving a reproachful look to both his companions.

"Aw, aren't you happy to see me, baby?" the voluptuous blonde laughed, plopping herself down between Bakura and Yami on the bench.

"Glad you could make it, Mai," Yami said, giving her a little smile, most likely for irritating Bakura.

"So then, opening one little box is more than I can handle?" Bakura asked, leaning an elbow on the damp armrest.

"It's always a bad idea to work alone," Yami said with a shrug. "It's just safer to have support if unexpected complications should arise. The Mormons have it right."

"And since poor little Bakura doesn't have a partner..."

"Oh don't be silly, baby, _I'm_ your partner!" Mai grinned and gave Bakura's thigh a playful slap. "We'll be _sensational_ together!"

Bakura rolled his eyes and snorted loudly.

"You should advise your partner as to changes in your personal life if you haven't already, Bakura," Yami commented, idly gazing out at the lake and munching his snack. Bakura glared at him.

"Well bless my stars, have you gone and gotten yourself a personal life at last, Bakura?" Mai exclaimed with a huge grin, leaning forward in interest.

"It is _not_ an issue," Bakura growled.

"Issue? Honey, forget _work_, I want _gossip!_" Mai laughed. "What's his name?"

"None of your _business!_" Bakura snapped.

"Ooh, defensive!" Mai said delightedly. "Don't be _stingy_, tell me all about it! Where'd you meet him? Is he _cute?_"

"Bridget's, I believe," Yami said casually and Mai's grin faltered.

"Oh _honey_, you're not dating a pleasure-worker are you? You know that's _never_ a good idea," she said, sounding concerned.

"He's not-" Bakura started and then cut himself off, crossing his arms and glaring out at the water. "None of your goddamned business."

"Actually, I believe Bakura was the knight who saved the poor innocent waif from a life of exploitation..." Yami murmured, a sadistic little smirk pulling at his lips.

Mai blinked momentarily and then giggled, her humor restored. "Have you been taking dating tips from Harlequin, Bakura?" she asked.

Bakura gritted his teeth and said nothing.

"Looked young too," Yami said in a mock-casual voice. "Thirteen, fourteen..."

"_Seventeen!_" Bakura snapped.

Mai squealed with delight. "Welcome to the cougar-club, Bakura!"

"_Shut up!_" Bakura restrained himself from stuffing Mai's stupid sun-glasses down her throat. He did have to work with her, after all. "It is _none_ of your fucking _business_ who I fuck and I am _not_ going to take any shit from _you_ and _definitely_ not from _you!_" he growled pointing at Mai and then Yami.

"All I'm looking for is a name, baby. Heaven knows, _I'm_ no one to judge," Mai said, leaning heavily against Bakura's side.

Bakura's glare had no effect and he eventually relented. "...Ryou."

"Well, the first step is admitting you have a problem..." Yami murmured smugly.

"_Fuck_ you."

"Oh _stop_, Yami! I think it's _wonderful!_" Mai said brightly. "My guy has been _way_ too tense lately. A happy Bakura is good for business!"

"_Fuck_ you," Bakura turned his scorn on Mai, who just laughed. "Can we _please_ get back to the task at hand. My personal life is not the _issue_ here."

"Factors affecting your state of mind are always an issue," Yami corrected. "Keep in mind that there is no privilege protecting you from that boy."

"_Whatever_," Bakura snorted.

000

Ryou gazed at photographs, mostly black-and-white, of lost masterworks, stolen during Nazi occupation and never seen again. There would be a photograph on one page and then the opposite one would have a description of the painting, when it was painted, why it had been commissioned and the artist who had made it, as well as its last known whereabouts and what person or museum had owned it before its disappearance.

There were so many of them. It was painful to think that it was because of the appreciation of art by misguided people that such precious pieces of Europe's artistic legacy had been lost to the world. Love, hate and loss, harmoniously united.

Although what is one to mourn more, a life lost in the holocaust or a painting? The lives became just numbers to the collective consciousness, it was sad, horrifying, the size of those numbers, but one didn't know most of those numbers as anything more than a digit. Famous objects offered a point of familiarity to millions; more people could feel the loss of those specific objects. Only so many people can know and love an ordinary person, an infinite number can love a well-known object.

And the pictures aren't just objects, they're memories. Memories of celebrities the world lost centuries ago. Memories of our history as a culture. Memories of how far we've come and where we came from. Memories of once upon a time.

Ryou had been caught trying to escape because he couldn't bring himself to leave that place without his photos. They were the memories, the proof of what it had been like once upon a time. Even when he finally had gotten out, he hadn't done so without them.

Ryou glanced in the direction of the coat-closet. His backpack was sitting in the sheltered corner, and his memories were inside of it. Would Bakura mind if he set them out somewhere that Ryou could see them? There was nothing on any of the walls in the condo, no decorations, maybe Bakura didn't like that sort of thing. But maybe there was some small out-of-the-way place that Ryou could have them that they wouldn't bother his benefactor or disturb the spartan aesthetic.

Ryou was shaken from his thoughts by a sharp, abrupt knocking at the door. He sat up and blinked, looking at the corner around which the door was located. His hand moved to touch the bruise on his forehead; he hadn't put any of the concealer on it today because he hadn't thought that he'd be facing anyone but Bakura.

Whoever it was, they were looking for Bakura though, not Ryou, so it was probably best if Ryou just pretended nobody was home anyway. Ryou had just decided to ignore the knocking and return to his book when suddenly there was the sound of a key in the lock and then the door opening. Ryou jerked around in his seat again, eyes wide as a jolt of fear ran through him. They were coming _in!_

"No, it's fine. He complains but he really doesn't mind. It'd just be silly to sit out in the hall when we don't even know when they're coming back."

Ryou relaxed slightly at the familiar voice and hurriedly combed his hair over the bruise with his fingers. "R-Rebecca?" he called out hesitantly.

"Ryou!" Rebecca popped around the corner, coming into sight before she finished the task she'd started of taking off her shoes. "I didn't think you were here! You didn't answer the door!"

"I- I didn't think anybody would be looking for me..." Ryou said lamely.

Rebecca laughed. "Well, shows what _you_ know!" she declared merrily, tossing her shoes back towards the entry way and walking out onto the carpet as a short teenager wandered into view behind her. "Ryou, this is Yuugi. He goes to my school and is a close family friend," she introduced and then added, "And also my boyfriend."

"Hi. It's nice to meet you," Yuugi said, looking a little embarrassed by Rebecca's introduction.

"Family friend?" Ryou wondered, looking curiously at Yuugi. He could have been a perfect copy of Bakura's 'business associate' Yami, only five or ten years younger.

"Our grandpas were best friends," Yuugi offered with a little shrug and a lopsided smile.

"Ah," Ryou said with a little nod.

"So I was talking to Yuugi today and I wanted him to meet you and both of us were free for the afternoon so I thought we should stop by!" Rebecca exclaimed brightly, walking over and leaning against the back of the couch. Then she paused and blinked, the smile falling off her lips. "Yee gods, Ryou, what happened to your _face?_" she demanded.

Ryou ducked his head, grabbing at a lock of hair and trying to hide behind it. "It-it's nothing," he stammered quickly. "It was a while ago. It's almost healed. It's fine."

"What _happened?_" Rebecca insisted, running around the couch and all but jumping on top of Ryou. "It looks like you head-butted a sidewalk! That wasn't there yesterday, was it?"

"N-no, it's _old_." Ryou shook his head and tried to scoot away from her, but Rebecca was fencing him in. "I had makeup on it yesterday. Bakura didn't do it. I swear to God, he had _nothing_ to do with it."

Rebecca froze, a blank look on her face as she stared at Ryou. "What are you _talking_ about? Of _course_ Bakura wouldn't do something like that!" she snapped, anger suddenly flashing across her features. "Are you saying somebody gave you that bruise on _purpose?_"

"Hey, Rebecca, maybe you-" Yuugi started hesitantly.

"_Who did that to you?_" Rebecca shouted, grabbing Ryou and shaking him.

"Some _drunk!_" Ryou wailed, bringing his arms up in front of his face. "He was so _blasted_ he probably didn't even know he was _doing_ it!"

Rebecca stopped shaking him and let go slowly. "Rebecca, come on," Yuugi coaxed, pulling her away. Ryou kept his eyes squeezed shut and didn't peek out from behind his raised arms. He could feel tears burning at his eyes and he fought to hold them back. "Stop," Yuugi was whispering. "You're freaking him out. Leave it alone."

Rebecca made a frustrated sound and then announced, "I'm gonna go get hot chocolate!" Ryou lowered his arms slowly and watched as the girl marched back towards the door and started pulling her shoes back on. "Ryou!" she snapped over her shoulder. "What kind of Starbucks do you like?"

"I, um," Ryou faltered, frowning. "I'm not sure. I usually put milk and sugar in my coffee..."

"Anything you don't like?" Rebecca asked.

"N-not really..."

"Okay. Yuugi?" Rebecca turned her attention to the boy standing a few feet away from Ryou.

"Hot chocolate, I guess," Yuugi answered with a shrug.

"Okay. I'll be back," Rebecca said and then disappeared to the sound of the front door opening and shutting again.

Ryou turned to look at Yuugi who sighed and scratched his head. "Sorry about that. She gets excited," he said with an apologetic little smile.

"Y-yeah, I've noticed," Ryou agreed, glancing away and feeling awkward.

"And the reason she's just run off now is that she expects me to entice you into a bro-chat and find out more information about you than she's managed to get," Yuugi said with a shrug and an eye-roll. "Sometimes it's easier to just pretend to go along with the scheme than it is to argue."

Ryou blinked in momentary confusion and then slowly his lips spread apart and he smiled back at the other boy. "I see," he said, grateful for Yuugi's candor and apparent ease with the fact that Rebecca's personality was perhaps a bit too forceful.

"There is something though..." Yuugi said in a more hesitant voice, his posture and expression suddenly turning awkward. "I wanted to know if... Do you know what Bakura... does?" he asked in a quiet, nervous voice.

Ryou looked at him carefully for a moment. He definitely had to be related to Yami, they were practically identical, and Bakura had seemed to think that Rebecca's initial visit was prompted by his associate. "Do _you?_" Ryou asked quietly.

Yuugi looked away uncomfortably. "It- It's really none of my business. If he hasn't said anything to you, then I shouldn't. I was just kind of..."

Ryou nodded slowly. It seemed like Yuugi wasn't looking for information, he was testing _Ryou's_ knowledge. "I jumped to the worst conclusion at first," Ryou said with a casual shrug. "He works odd hours, on commission, he won't talk about what he does, and he drives a 'vette. Naturally the words 'Mafia' and 'assassin' came to mind," he admitted.

Yuugi looked alarmed suddenly. "Ah, that's- that's really-" he stammered, bringing up his hands a little in a 'whoa' gesture.

"But his personal library over there made me feel a little better," Ryou said, cutting Yuugi off, and he nodded towards the bookshelf in the living room. "I think if I had to guess, I'd be inclined to label him a... acquisitions specialist?"

Yuugi looked relieved. "Good. I wanted to make sure you knew what you stepped in," he said.

Ryou shrugged. "He's probably the least shitty thing I've stepped in for about eight years," he said vaguely. Yuugi looked down, an uncomfortable expression overcoming his face. "Just… as far as the proverbial 'catch' goes, this doesn't seem like a terrible one," Ryou explained. "I suppose I could go to prison as an accomplice or something, but he's obviously not careless."

"He hasn't told you in any specific terms what he does, has he?" Yuugi asked, frowning.

"He hasn't told me in _any_ terms. The only thing he's said is that he works freelance," Ryou agreed.

"Right. He's making sure you don't know anything to protect both of you. If you knew any specifics about his work, you could really hurt him, and it would also put you in a dangerous position," Yuugi explained carefully. "My grandpa, he says that he and Yami are in the 'antiques and collectables' business. I think it's pretty apt to call Bakura an 'acquisitions specialist'," he said with an amused little grin. "Yami just calls him a 'freelance contractor'."

"And Yami is your... brother?" Ryou guessed.

"Cousin," Yuugi corrected and then tilted his head a little, looking curious. "Have you met him?"

"Bakura ditched him when he swooped in to rescue me, apparently." Ryou shrugged. "And he was waiting when we came out. He seemed like... one of those people who, when they're annoyed just gets all dry and sarcastic. I think he was annoyed."

Yuugi nodded thoughtfully and then gave a sheepish, little grin. "Yeah, he does that," he agreed and then sighed. "I think you must be pretty intuitive. You haven't used any red-flag words since we've been talking. It's the way they talk too, always with nonspecific words that. Like, to anyone paying attention it's pretty obvious what they're talking about, but even if you recorded it, no judge would ever let it into the courtroom because it's all subjective and stuff."

"So... how is Yami involved with Bakura? You said 'freelance contractor'. I've pretty well figured out what Bakura does, how does Yami come into that?" Ryou asked, drumming his fingers on the counter.

"He's an agent. He sets up work for Bakura and deals with the customers. He has other clients too. The best," Yuugi said proudly. "See, he's one of the only agents around who'll represent women, and he's the _only_ one I know of who'll represent open homosexuals, so because he's the _only one_, he gets the very best, like Bakura... Actually," he amended in a thoughtful voice, "I think Bakura gave him the idea. They were already working together when Bakura 'came out'."

Ryou nodded slowly, staring blankly ahead as he processed the information. "And you mentioned your grandfather. It's a family business?"

"Family but not '_family_'," Yuugi said carefully. "It's that way for a lot of the big-leaguers. Passing from father to son and such," he said. "I'm not really in on it. I only know a little of what goes on, like, they make sure I know enough to understand why I can't approach them if I see them out in public, but they don't give me any real information, like nothing that could get me in trouble, because I'm a minor and all."

"A client list isn't risky information?" Ryou asked, raising an eyebrow.

Yuugi laughed nervously. "Bakura's the only one I know. He's not just a client, really. Like Rebecca said, our families have always been close. See, Grandpa represented Mister Hawkins- actually, they kind of started the business together." Yuugi smiled lop-sidedly. "So Bakura's almost like family, even though he and Yami argue most of the time."

Ryou nodded slowly, processing the information. "Do you-" he stopped himself and shook his head. "No, sorry, never mind."

"What?" Yuugi prodded.

"Nothing," Ryou shook his head again. "I'm curious about some things about him, but it really wouldn't be appropriate to ask you."

"Oh," Yuugi nodded and looked down at his hands.

"... Rebecca doesn't know about his job, does she?" Ryou asked after a few minutes.

"No. Mister Hawkins didn't believe women should be in that line of work. That's why he took Bakura in, because he didn't want to pass the trade on to his daughter. I don't think Rebecca's mom knows either. Maybe she has an idea, but she's probably never been _told_ or anything."

"I see."

"Grandpa never involved Aunt Yuri in anything, but, I don't know, that could be because she's kinda flakey instead of because she's a woman. My dad- I think Grandpa was just about to retire when my dad died, and then he kept going and taught Yami when he grew up." Yuugi leaned back and gazed up at the ceiling.

"Do you live with your grandpa?" Ryou asked.

"Yeah, sorta. Mom and I moved into the townhouse next-door to his after my dad died," Yuugi said with a nod. "I was pretty young and I can't really remember him much," he trailed off and then shook himself a little and continued. "And Grandpa raised Yami, because Aunt Yuri... she... couldn't really handle things and she kind of ran away... So then Grandpa raised Yami and when he turned eighteen, Grandpa started teaching him the business and now Grandpa's sort of half-retired and I think he's mostly just advising Yami at this point."

It was considerably more information than Ryou had asked for, and he got the impression that Yuugi was feeling rather relieved to have someone 'in the know' to talk to, even though Ryou really didn't _know_ anything. "Do they just handle 'acquisitions specialists', or do they have... more..."

"They don't work with assassins or anything," Yuugi said quickly, a touch of anger flashing across his round features. "There's a lot of different specialties inside the acquisitions business. It's a huge business and they don't _need_ to branch out. You can't just lump everything that's illegal into one category. There's a big difference between, like, art theft and racketeering rings that exploit working-class people." Yuugi insisted defensively. "Crime is a major cornerstone of the economy. Do you know how much money goes into crime-prevention? A million people would be put out of work if there wasn't any crime. And the kind of targets that Yami and Bakura go after are the ones that could lose ninety-nine percent of everything they own and still have a roof over their head and food on their table."

Ryou nodded silently. Yuugi's counter-indoctrination was kind of impressive. "So there's no association with the mob?" he asked quietly.

"No. Well-" Yuugi paused, thinking about it. "I don't know, maybe they get hired by mobsters now and then, but that would be individuals who just _happen_ to be part of the mob hiring an agency on their own, not in direct association with their organization."

"I see," Ryou said. He opened his mouth to ask another question but stopped and clamped his mouth shut when he heard a key in the lock. A few seconds later the door opened and Rebecca came back around the corner.

"_Oo_kay! Ryou, I got you a caramel macchiato!" she announced, seeming to be back to her usual chipper self, as she came out into the living room carrying a cardboard drink-tray with three grande-sized cups in it.

"Er, thanks... You really didn't have to..." Ryou mumbled. It was weird enough having Bakura spend money on him; Rebecca was just a kid.

"Bah! You made me dinner last night so it's fair, right?" she dismissed and checked the sharpie-scribbles on the sides of the paper cups before pulling one out and handing it to Ryou. "Besides, I'm not gonna sit in front of you drinking a hot-chocolate when you don't have anything. That'd just be rude."

"Thanks, Becca," Yuugi said as she handed a cup to him.

"Nooo problem," Rebecca plopped herself down on the couch next to Yuugi, cradling the remaining cup in her hands. "So, Ryou, I was thinking that we should totally hang out. What do you do for fun besides art? What's your favorite games?"

"I don't know..." Ryou said, tilting his head to the side a little and watching the steam rise out of his anti-spill lid. "I used to have a Wii, but it... got broken. I kind of like the cartoony games sometimes, but I never get that into, like, the video-game RPGs. It just feels a little pointless, playing this game that's supposed to be 'role-playing' but the ending and everything is already scripted. It's somebody else's story and you can't really change it, even if you chose left instead of right, eventually you'll get to the same ending cut-scene."

"What about the ones that _aren't_ scripted, like MMOs?" Yuugi asked.

"Yeah, they're definitely an interesting idea." Ryou nodded slowly. "I've never had the cash around to pay a subscription fee for any of the really popular ones. I've played some of the free ones a bit, but they're still a little restrictive. I used to play D&D with my friends in middle school, and I really liked that, but I haven't really had time for it or a group or anything in a while."

"We should _make_ a group!" Rebecca exclaimed, eyes bright and excited. "I've got a friend at school who's really into Shadow Run and stuff! We could _totally_ put together a role-playing group!"

"I'd play," Yuugi agreed with a little smile. "I'd love to have something like that as, like, a regular thing."

000

000

Mai mentions Harlequin, which is a major publisher of adult novels (what I like to call Safeway-porn), so, in case anybody drew a blank on that one I thought I'd mention it here.

So I'm not sure I feel that this chapter is done so much as that I'm sick of rereading it in parts over and over again. The first scene was actually the last to be written, or finished anyway, as I had some porn-writer's block going on the past few weeks. The rest of this chapter has been sitting around undergoing revisions and waiting for me to write the smut and I've gotten thoroughly tired of it because it's taken so long; I'm really glad to get it out of the way and move on. Next chapter will have some conflict, so don't worry, mindless fluff is out of the way for now. I think this is the first 'day' that's lasted more than a chapter, but it was getting towards thirty pages so I decided I should break it in half.

So, anyway, I can't think of much more I want to say about this one. I love and respond to comments, and often times they help me get into gear to write some more, so honestly and without pouting I'd say that more reviews can lead to quicker updates.


	5. Chapter 5

"No, I want to put it on _my_ plan," Bakura corrected irritably; the clerk nodded and went back to talking to a bean-counter in some distant state or country as he tried to arrange a new cell-phone package. 

"You're rather serious about this boy, aren't you. Where did you know him from before Tuesday?" Yami asked, _still_ following Bakura around.

"I told you before: none of your fucking _business_," Bakura snapped, glaring.

Yami rolled his eyes. "Can you not at least appreciate my concern?" he asked.

"No."

"I really want you to start seeing a counselor," Yami said in a firm voice.

Bakura glared at him silently for a few seconds.

"Sir, do you want to upgrade to a family-plan or add the new phone as a separate plan on your account?" the clerk broke in.

"What's the difference?" Bakura asked, doubting that it was much. "I'm set up for unlimited talk and text, right? So it's not like sharing minutes on a family plan or something is going to affect _my_ use."

"Er," the clerk faltered, looking unsure. "The price, I guess..."

"Fine. Make it a family-plan," Bakura snorted and then turned his attention back to Yami. "I want one who can take a look at Ryou too. Somebody fucked him up bad."

Yami looked slightly startled, probably at how easy it had been to make Bakura agree to seeing a shrink. "Sure," he said with a small nod. "Battery, I'm guessing?"

"I don't know- fucked-uppedness!" Bakura snapped. "Battery's got to be part of it, but he's got some serious -I don't know- self-esteem issues too."

"Does gender matter?"

Bakura shrugged.

"Sherrie Holsgate works with some abuse victims," Yami said. "I'll find her number and send it to you tonight."

"Okay." Bakura looked back at the clerk, who was talking to the bean-counter on the other end of the line and scribbling down numbers on a carbon-paper form.

"I have a late lunch with Mister Wong on Monday. He wants you to be there too," Yami said after a minute.

Bakura groaned. "... Of course he does."

"I'm meeting him at two o-clock at the Szechuan Paradise," Yami said. "Best behavior."

"I know," Bakura grumbled.

000

Ryou was so distracted, he didn't even hear the door until it closed. He looked up and turned slightly, as the sound of the door was soon followed by an indignant yell. "Hey! Brat! What the hell?" Bakura demanded, glaring at Rebecca accusingly.

"We're going to start a role-playing group!" Rebecca announced cheerfully, ignoring the look.

"You're huh?" Bakura frowned, looking baffled, as Ryou pushed himself up and walked around the couch to meet him in the living room.

"Sorry, they came over an hour or two ago and we've been talking about games," Ryou said, stopping in front of him.

"Don't apologize," Bakura said, frowning slightly. "It's fine. Besides, I'm betting you were _ambushed_." He leaned around Ryou to cast another glare at Rebecca, who stuck her tongue out.

"We should probably be getting home though anyway, Becca. It's getting kind of late," Yuugi said, glancing at his phone.

"Ooor, we could all order pizza and watch a movie!" Rebecca suggested, throwing her arms in the air enthusiastically.

"No," Bakura shot back flatly.

"But-"

"No. My house is not a daycare. Go home," Bakura said in a firm monotone. "I just want a quiet evening without any interruptions or disasters or anybody trying to _spy_ on me."

Rebecca pushed out her bottom lip, her face stormy, and crossed her arms. "Fine. Are you going to at least give me a ride home?"

"_No_," Bakura snapped. "You got _here_ on your own, you can figure out how to get _home_ on your own."

"_Fine!_" Rebecca shouted, throwing her arms in the air again. She jumped to her feet and stomped around the couch.

"_Rebecca_..." Yuugi called after her in a pleading voice as he chased her over to the entryway.

"It's _fine!_ I know when I'm not _wanted!_" Rebecca snapped, stuffing her feet into her shoes.

"When you're being a relentless _pest?_ Yeah, _that's_ about the time!" Bakura snarled back.

"_Ass-hole!_" Rebecca shouted.

"_Brat!_"

"_Shit-head!_"

"_Midget!_"

Rebecca stepped out the door and cast Bakura one final glare. "_Dumb-ass!_" she shouted and then slammed the door.

There was a second of quiet, and then Yuugi broke it with an overly cheerful, strained voice. "It was nice meeting you Ryou! See you around!" He turned and hurried out the door, pulling it shut much more quietly than Rebecca had.

"W-what was _that?_" Ryou asked, looking from the closed door to Bakura.

"Eh, nothing. She probably won't even remember what we were yelling about in a couple days," Bakura said in a casual voice, giving a little shrug. "Every few months she'll tell me that she's never going to speak to me again. Lasts about a week. It's just a new twist on 'you're not invited to my birthday party'."

Ryou stared at him. Bakura's countenance held no trace of anger or any other remnant of the shouting-match. "...But..." Ryou mumbled lamely.

Bakura glanced at him, a concerned expression suddenly crossing his face. "Sorry, did that bother you?"

Ryou blinked slowly, considering the question. Was he asking if Ryou was so fragile couldn't handle raised voices? "I'm fine," Ryou answered, shaking his head. "Do you have a preference for dinner tonight?"

Bakura shrugged. "Anything is fine. I like all the stuff we bought," he answered easily and then glanced down at the bag he was carrying. "I, um, hang on," he muttered and reached into his coat-pocket. "I got a key made for you," he said, holding out a door key on a generic plastic keychain.

"Thank you," Ryou said quietly, accepting it. He glanced at the side of the bag Bakura was holding. It was white paper with a name and logo printed across the front in cobalt blue, Perfect Palette Art Supplies.

"And a phone, because, y'know, you need..." Bakura muttered awkwardly and handing Ryou a black and white plastic bag with a small-electronics sized box inside. "And you said, uh-" he faltered slightly and then held out the large bag to Ryou. "The woman at the store recommended a couple kinds of paper and some pens and pencils and stuff, so, pick out what you like and then we can exchange the rest if it's crap."

"Th-thank you," Ryou whispered, staring down at the bag, heavy with art supplies. Should he start getting dinner ready or did Bakura want him to inspect the new art supplies right now? Like a gift? That's what it was, Ryou supposed, there was no excusing sketchpads and pens as necessities.

Ryou walked slowly over to the dining table and set the bag down, before reaching inside and pulling out the thickest object, which rattled slightly as he lifted it. He stared at the box in his hands, his mouth hanging open slightly. "Copics," Ryou breathed.

"Are they not good? I didn't know, it's just what the girl at the store recommended. We can bring them back if you want something else," Bakura said with a little shrug.

"They're the best," Ryou mumbled, opening the folding package and looking at all 72 colors lined up in beautiful rows. "What the professionals use." And worth over three hundred dollars, he didn't add.

"Okay, good," Bakura said with a little grin. "I didn't know what kind of drawing you were into. The girl gave me stuff for a couple different kinds..." He gave another slightly awkward shrug.

Ryou reluctantly set the markers aside to unload the rest of the bag. The sketch pads and bristol-board and various weights of papers were all standard Strathmore and Canson products. There was also a large set of Rembrandt soft pastels and the big box of Prismacolor pencils, as well as a standard eight-set of graphite pencils and a five-pack of black Micron pens.

"These... are all really good..." Ryou mumbled, staring down at the collection now spread over the dining table, a voice in the back of his head informing him over and over that he was looking at about seven-hundred dollars worth of art supplies. It was a far cry from the 50-pack of Crayola pencils he'd had last week. "This- this is too much," he whispered as the voice in the back of his head wailed at him to shut up.

"It's no big deal." Bakura looked away, drumming his fingers on the back of a chair.

"It's- it's _creepy_," Ryou blurted.

Bakura gave him a startled look. "Creepy?"

"All this _stuff__!_ It's like- it makes me feel like I'm getting deeper and deeper into _debt_ to you!" Ryou exclaimed, gesturing uselessly at the items on the table. "I- I keep worrying that the other shoe's going to drop or something and you're going to turn out to be some kind of _psycho_ and I'm going to want to _leave_ but I won't to be _able_ to because I'm going to _owe_ you too much!"

Bakura's brows pinched together and he opened his mouth to protest but Ryou couldn't seem to stop the tumult of traitorous words falling from his lips. "I mean- Yuugi said you're not with the mob, but it feels like the same kind of principle as you don't ever let the Mafia do you a favor because the minute you do, they're into you for _life!_ It's- it's _creepy!_ How much do I _owe_ you now? What am I _committing_ myself to by accepting all these _gifts?_" Ryou knew he sounded hysterical, but he couldn't seem to calm himself down or stop talking now that he'd started down this path.

"You're not committing to _anything!_ There's no _obligation_, no _commitment_, I'm not the Mafia or some _phone_ company!" Bakura exclaimed, his voice elevated, not angry, just frustrated, confused. "I'm not trying to _buy _you! I just want you to have some basic stuff!"

"Seven-_hundred_ dollars worth of _art supplies?_" Ryou's voice came out loud and shrill.

"It's not a big deal!"

"_It's a big deal!_" Ryou screamed and then hooked his hands in his hair and started pacing as he moved from a-little-freaked-out into a full fledged melt-down. "I can't _do_ this! I don't know what you _want_ from me!"

"I'm sick of being _alone!_" Bakura shouted, his hands fisted at his sides. "I'm sick of going to _bed_ alone- I'm sick of waking _up_ alone- I'm sick of _driving_ alone- I'm sick of _eating_ alone- I'm sick of BEING alone!" He shook for a minute, squeezing his eyes shut; he didn't look like he was holding back tears, he looked more like he was trying not to strangle Ryou. "I'm so fucking _lonely_ I got infatuated with a fantasy _loosely_ based around some kid I saw at a _bus-stop!_ When I saw you going into Bridget's, it ruined the fantasy and I'm so _pathetic_ I couldn't _handle_ that!"

"So tell me what to _do!_ _Use_ me! _Slap_ me! Just stop treating me like some kind of _guest_ or pet _poodle!_ I'm a WHORE!" Ryou screamed.

When Ryou ventured to look up through his disarrayed hair, Bakura was pacing a tight circle and viciously biting his own knuckle. He looked like a caged animal about to snap and throw itself into the bars. He stopped when his eyes happened to catch on Ryou's. They stared silently at each other for a few seconds and the Bakura dropped his hand. "Let's go for a drive," he said suddenly, holding out his hand. It sounded more like a command than a suggestion.

Ryou took his hand automatically, not even realizing he'd done it until Bakura's fingers closed around his. "W-what?" he stammered as Bakura started dragging him towards the front door. "Where?"

"Don't know," Bakura said, shrugging brusquely. "We'll find out when we get there."

000

The sun had set almost an hour ago, but rush-hour was still on. Bakura blew through winding back-roads, going well above the posted speed-limit, until he hit the edge of the city and merged onto a sparsely populated freeway. He had the base on his sound system cranked up so that he could feel the music shaking through his body even as he heard it, like a heavy-metal massage.

Ryou sat quiet and still in the passenger's seat, staring blankly through the windshield, the whole time. He was probably still freaking out -he looked freaked out- but Bakura hadn't managed to get to his happy-place yet and didn't trust himself to speak civilly. When they got past the suburbs, traffic dissolved into a fast-moving trickle of semis, and as he held down the accelerator and let the engine unwind at 80 and 90, he felt his knotted nerves starting to unwind too.

He began to mentally pick apart the fit Ryou had thrown over the art supplies into its component pieces. Ryou didn't like having money spent on him; yes, Bakura had picked up on that at the mall yesterday. Buying the most expensive pens and crap the art store had to offer had been a stupid idea. If he had a problem with people buying him basic necessities for survival, of _course_ he'd get edgy about receiving expensive luxury items. Bakura should have seen that one coming and kept it simple, but noooo.

It wasn't just about the art supplies either, Ryou had made that pretty clear. He was scared. And what the hell was this about Yuugi? Yuugi had _told_ Ryou about Bakura's work? What the hell was he thinking? Bakura's fist would definitely be having a word with Yami's face about this one.

Ryou was concerned about some kind debt, but that was probably a combination of factors one and two. Factor one was something Bakura had no idea how to address other than the way he had. A few hundred dollars here and there _wasn't_ a big deal. But that was a difference of opinion and not likely to be solved any time soon.

The second factor though, that was definitely something that needed correcting.

Bakura leaned forward, without taking his eyes off the road, and turned the volume down on the radio. He leaned back and took a breath, trying to compose the most straight-forward, non-threatening means of approaching the subject and figuring out what the micro-Mutou had blabbed. "What did Yuugi tell you?" he asked in an even voice. Simple, straight forward.

Ryou looked down at his knees and was quiet for a few seconds, then he mumbled, "Nothing."

"Ryou, I know he told you _something_. You were talking about the Mafia earlier," Bakura said, trying to keep his voice calm, even though frustration was starting to itch at him again.

"...He just asked me if I knew what you did," Ryou said softly, still staring at his knees.

"_And?_" Bakura snapped before he managed to rein it back in. "What did you tell him? What did he tell you?"

"I- I- The only thing I asked him about you was if you were Mafia, and he said there was no connection!" Ryou said, his voice suddenly louder and once again panicky.

"Why did you _think_ I was?" Bakura asked, glancing at Ryou for a moment before turning his eyes back to the road.

"I don't _know_," Ryou said, hugging his arms against his stomach and leaning forward in his seat a bit.

"There's got to be a _reason_," Bakura insisted, trying hard to keep his voice level. "You've known me less than a _week_."

"I don't _know!_" Ryou protested, his voice getting shrill. "I just had a _feeling_ that you were into _something_ illegal and that you were _good_ at it! Like a _professional_ or something!" A little hiccupping sob followed the words and Bakura glanced sideways again to see that Ryou was curled in on himself even more and covering his face with his hands.

"Are you _crying?_" Bakura demanded, the weak threads holding his patience together snapping. "_What?_ What did I do _now?_"

Ryou let out a louder sob. "I'm _scared!_" he shouted. "We're having some kind of _fight_ and you think that Yuugi _told_ me something I shouldn't know and now you're driving me out into the _middle of_ _nowhere_ and it's like you're looking for a place to dump my _body!_"

"God _damn it!_" Bakura shouted, slapping the edge of the steering wheel. Why had he not considered how 'let's go for a drive' sounded to someone convinced he was a mobster? He'd made a bad misunderstanding ten times worse due to his glorious wealth of stupidity. Bakura shook his head violently before turning back to the road, so as to not kill them both, and watched in horror as his mouth started getting ahead of his brain yet again.

"I'm _not_ mafia!" he barely managed to keep his tone below an exasperated shout. "I don't dump _bodies!_ There _are_ no bodies! I _hate _bodies!" Bakura was trying really hard not to get angry at Ryou, but this whole thing was just so _stupid_. Ryou had his head ducked and his body curled down towards his knees and the stretched-out seatbelt wobbled around above his crouched form.

Suddenly Bakura had a desperate need to _not_ be trapped in a confined space with Ryou. His eyes flicked to a rest-area sign and he slid across the lanes, dropping carefully around a semi, and onto the off-ramp. He rolled into the large parking lot way too fast and he could feel the breaks protesting as the car skidded to a stop right in the middle. Bakura didn't bother to fit it into one of the spaces, it was the middle of the night and March; nobody else was going to drive in.

He set the break and turned off the engine, leaving the keys in the ignition, before fighting off his seatbelt and throwing himself out the door. The chill outside came as a sudden shock, but Bakura ignored it, slamming the car door shut and striding across the pavement to the grassy little berm that ran along one side of the parking lot. He dropped down onto the scraggly grass and hunched over for a few seconds before tipping himself back and laying on the frigid, spongey ground, staring up at the sky.

A moment's search brought him the location Orion's belt and sword, and then Ursa Major. A familiar sky, comforting sky, where darkness protected the stars from the sun's fire. If only the air weren't polluted by the orange light from a few dozen extra-tall street-lamps dotted through the parking lot, the stars wouldn't be so dim and weak. Light made things too confusing, too overwhelming and intense; darkness was so much simpler. In the darkness all of Bakura's senses were sharper and he knew where he was- he could feel it, the ground, the air the something-else that he couldn't quite define. Daylight blocked all that knowledge and left him adrift.

Adrift like he was now, even in near-darkness, presented with so many intangibles that he couldn't seem to get a grip on. He didn't know Ryou. He didn't know enough about him to understand his actions and reactions and it was frustrating that human beings had to be so very complicated. And for any interaction between two human beings the complications doubled as the complications of the one were added to the complications of the other. Or maybe it ought to be product rather than sum. And even if Bakura were to understand all the factors, he still couldn't seem to speak the same language as Ryou.

The cold was starting to seep down deep into Bakura's body. In a way it was uncomfortable. In a way it was soothing, like he'd been fevered before and the cool around him was pulling his body temperature back down to normal. Or maybe it was just numbness. No, he hadn't been out long enough for that to start yet, had he? How long was it now since he'd abandoned the car?

There were footsteps; sneakers crunching against loose pebbles strewn over the pavement. They stopped a few feet from him. Bakura blinked slowly up at the weak stars and then his voice came out quiet and dull. "Can't drive, huh?" he asked. He'd left the keys in the ignition; if Ryou really thought his life was in danger he could have driven away and left Bakura sprawled on the berm. Unless he didn't know how.

"... No," Ryou's voice said quietly.

"Bummer," Bakura murmured.

"I- I wouldn't leave you out here anyway. It's winter. You'd get hypothermia. You might die," Ryou whispered.

"Isn't it me or you though? You think this is a body-dumping mission, right?" Bakura closed his eyes, deepening the darkness but loosing the stars in the process.

"I know that it's stupid," Ryou mumbled. "I just got scared."

"I'm not mafia."

"Yeah," Ryou acknowledged quietly.

"I'm a thief."

Ryou was silent for a few seconds. "I don't think you're supposed to tell me that."

Bakura opened his eyes and looked back up at the stars again. "It's better than letting you go on thinking I'm a murderer," he said, trying to remember where Cassiopeia was this time of year. "Besides, without any specifics, if you just went into the police station or something and told them that you believed I _might_ have stolen _something_ at _some point_, they're just going to be like 'yeah, okay, we have real work to do, kid.'"

"I suppose so," Ryou agreed and then moved, his steps getting quieter as his shoes moved from the pavement onto the grass, and sat down next to Bakura.

"...I'm not good at talking to people," Bakura admitted softly. "I usually just let Yami deal with that."

There was a short pause and then Ryou started speaking in a slightly muffled voice. "If you're trying to explain yourself because you think you've done something wrong, you don't need to. This thing wasn't your fault." Bakura could hear him swallow and shift. "You've been perfectly nice to me this whole time and I'm throwing it back in your face because I'm paranoid."

Bakura turned his head slightly to look at Ryou's shadowy profile. "I don't know how to make you believe that I'm not trying to hurt you. All I can do is say it, but I know I tend to come off as insincere."

Ryou shook his head slowly and then dipped it a little, resting his chin on his knees and hugging them closer to himself. "You seem sincere to me," he whispered. "But even if you're sincere, what does that matter? People can be completely sincere and honestly want the best, but their actions will take them in the opposite direction. Because our brains are made of pieces, and even if the cerebral cortex wants to take the higher ground, our animal-brain is still run by violent survival instincts."

Bakura studied Ryou's outline carefully, the soft glow around the edges as the starlight reflected against his hair, the dim suggestion of features in the muddled darkness. "He's the kind of person who would beat you up and then get all weepy and give you presents and promise to never do it again?" Ryou remained silent, hugging his knees a little tighter. "Is that why you don't like presents?"

Ryou moved in what might have been recognizable as a shrug, if Bakura were looking at him from a different angle. Bakura sighed and turned back toward the stars. "... I'll tell you a secret that doesn't have any legal repercussions attached to it," he said quietly. "When I was about eleven, Arthur- that's Rebecca's grandfather- started checking me for cuts and burns and scratches every couple days because I was hurting myself when I got stressed. I still do it sometimes, but I learned how to not leave marks a long time ago." Bakura stared blankly up, not quite seeing the stars anymore, and took a deep breath. "My point is that if I lose it and need to hurt someone, it's not going to be you."

There was a long silence, maybe more than two minutes, and then Ryou's voice came out small and wavering. "You bit your hand. Back at the condo."

"Yeah," Bakura agreed, nodding slightly. "If I do it in the right place, the mark only lasts about an hour and then it's gone... And it lets off a little tension. I've heard it's an endorphin thing."

"... You're kind of old for that sort of thing," Ryou mumbled.

"I don't do it very often anymore." Bakura shrugged a little. "Just when I really need to clear my head."

They were quiet again and in the lull, Bakura noticed an odd, tiny sound; it took him a few seconds to place. Ryou's teeth were chattering. Of _course_ he was cold. He hadn't been wearing a jacket when Bakura dragged him down to the garage and Bakura hadn't even bothered to notice.

Bakura sat up and reached over, grabbing Ryou around the waist and pulling the startled boy into his lap. He did his best to wrap his own coat around both of them and hugged his arms tightly around Ryou, who was stiff for a few seconds but then relaxed and leaned into Bakura. "Sorry about this," Bakura whispered, rubbing a hand up and down Ryou's arm in a feeble attempt to warm him through friction. "Driving helps me relax."

Ryou nodded and stayed silent, leaning his forehead against the side of Bakura's neck as he trembled. "We should find a place to eat," Bakura decided. "What mile are we at? I think we're close to a really great Thai place. Do you like Thai?" Ryou nodded again. "Okay, good," Bakura said, letting out a little breath. "A little pepper will get you warmed up."

000

It was a modest-sized but richly-furnished restaurant with an elephant theme. A carved, wooden sculpture near the middle had four elephants facing away from each other in the four directions with their heads and trunks swung upwards; they looked like they could have supported a table. It was much nicer than Ryou had expected from a little place in a strip-mall.

His eyes skimmed back and forth over the menu a pretty hostess had given him, over vaguely familiar words and completely foreign ones. Ryou chewed on his lip and he felt his face heat up a little. "Um..." he mumbled after a few moments of surveying the unfamiliar selection. He looked up to find Bakura staring back at him in that disturbingly intense way he did. Ryou's eyes returned to the menu and he stammered awkwardly. "Could you... recommend something? Not too spicy or weird?"

There was a brief pause and then Bakura responded in a conversational tone, without any noticeable derision for Ryou's ignorance. "Pud thai is good and not too adventurous. It's rice noodles with tofu and egg and meat and a sweet sauce," he said. "The spice level in most of these is tailored to the order. You tell them the star-rating you want, between one and five, one being not spicy and five being very spicy."

Ryou nodded. Noodles sounded safe. "Thanks," he said quietly.

A few minutes after they'd ordered, their waitress brought cups of some sweet soup that wasn't quite egg-flower and wasn't quite miso, and a salad made mostly of cabbage. The menus gone, Ryou found himself looking for a new excuse to avoid Bakura's eyes. He stared down at the soup, stirring it slowly around with his spoon.

"... Are you warm now?" Bakura asked quietly.

"Yes." Ryou nodded.

"That's good." There was an awkward silence.

"... Did you do something dangerous today?" Ryou asked in a soft voice just above a whisper. "When you were out?"

"Dangerous?" Bakura sounded baffled. "I just went to meet someone."

Ryou nodded again and felt himself flushing. "I- After you left, I realized that I didn't know what time you were coming back... I didn't know what time I should start being worried..." He stared down at the remainder of his soup, face burning with shame. "...So I just worried all day."

"... You shouldn't worry."

Ryou nodded once more. "I know... But I do," he mumbled. "If there's a chance you wouldn't come back... if you'd get shot or arrested or something... even if it's a tiny chance..."

"If I told you which days to worry, would you be okay the rest of the time?"

Ryou blinked and looked up at Bakura, startled. "What do you mean?"

"Smash-and-grab tends to be a pretty short-lived career with a lot of jail-time. Any job I do has at least a month's prep-time." Bakura seemed to be studying Ryou like a complex math problem. "If I told you what days I was doing something 'dangerous', would you not be worried the rest of the time?"

"That..." Ryou turned the idea over in his head a little and then slowly nodded. "I think so," he said at length.

"Okay," Bakura said with a nod and picked up his cup of soup, drinking the remaining broth. "I'd usually be working at night for 'events'. Outside of those, there's a pretty low chance of me getting shot at and if I'm going to get arrested it would probably be while I'm at home. But also, not likely."

"Okay," Ryou said with another nod, picking up his cup and his spoon and taking a whack at his own soup.

"And..." Bakura's brow pinched and he looked at his cup as he set it down. "You're not expensive, Ryou. The reason I'm throwing so much stuff at you all at once is because you don't _have_ stuff right now and I just want you to have some basic stuff to be comfortable and not bored and all..."

"I... Yeah. I just don't need... expensive stuff," Ryou mumbled, tugging at a lock of his hair. "I mean, I just feel like, if you're going to throw money at some charity case, there's plenty more deserving than me..."

Bakura was quiet for a moment. "You mean like Amnesty International or the Red Cross? I have auto-pays set up at my bank for those. They get a check every year."

Ryou looked up, surprised but with a pang of guilt for the feeling. "So... You're Robin Hood then?"

"Robin Hood lived in a tree. I'm not that generous," Bakura corrected with a little grin pulling at his lips. "I asked Arthur, a lot of years ago, how to pay him back for taking me in. He told me to give to charity. So I do."

"...He must have been a really great guy," Ryou said quietly, twisting the end of his hair around a finger and letting it go, then repeating the process.

"He was," Bakura agreed softly.

"Gang gai, three-stars!"

Ryou jumped slightly at the waitress's voice and Bakura straightened up, looking slightly embarrassed as he nodded to her. "Yeah, that's mine."

"Here you are, sir," the waitress chirped cheerfully, setting down a plate with a perfectly rounded mound of rice and a boat of red curry. "And that would make you the chicken pud thai, one-star!" she noted with a grin, putting a dish of orangey noodles in front of Ryou. "Can I get you anything else?"

"No, that should do it. Thanks," Bakura said, giving her an awkward smile and picking a ladle out of his curry-boat to spoon the creamy stew over his rice.

"Thank you," Ryou echoed in a quieter voice, poking a fork into his noodles.

"... So, anyway," Bakura said after the waitress had left. "I'll stop buying you frivolous stuff. Just things you need."

"I have my own money." Ryou spun some noodles around his fork and ate them without looking up at Bakura. "I can buy the things I need... You're not charging me rent and that's huge. I don't need any more help than that."

Bakura was quiet for a while and Ryou glanced up through his bangs to observe Bakura frustratedly stabbing at the pieces of chicken in his curry. "Shouldn't- shouldn't you be saving up for tuition or something?" he demanded eventually.

"Wouldn't do me much good without a high school diploma." Ryou shrugged, looking back down at his food and feeling hot shame in his cheeks again.

"...Why didn't you finish?" Bakura asked more quietly.

"Needed to work so I could afford food and rent," Ryou mumbled shrugging again. "I can't get a full schedule at one job because I'm a minor and I can't coordinate two jobs around classes."

Bakura nodded and chewed some coconut-cream coated vegetable slowly as he appeared to contemplate Ryou's statement. "You don't, now," he offered very softly and then continued in a stronger voice. "Since you're a minor, you'd probably be able to go back to school pretty easily without the government making a fuss about funding or whatever." He seemed to falter slightly on the word 'minor' but pressed bravely onward. "I mean, obviously it would kind of suck to go back in with kids younger than you, but the state allows you to substitute classes at the community college to fill the high school requirements for a state-issued degree."

Ryou picked up a sauce-filled piece of scrambled-egg on the end of his fork and looked at it. "I doubt if I could save up enough for tuition and take any classes before the clock ran out on my minor status," he said quietly.

"You don't have to. The state pays for it out of the high school budget," Bakura said with a quirky, maybe encouraging(?) little grin. "I have friends who did it. Earning the college credits and high school credits at the same time and all, they got their associate's all on the state's expense. I think the deal still holds after you turn eighteen too, so long as you don't apply for high school graduation until you're ready to apply for a two-year degree too."

"That seems rather dishonest," Ryou noted, chewing on his lip.

"Anybody can do it, most people just don't bother to look into it or go for it," Bakura said and ate a clump of rice. "And anyway, do you think what you've been through is fair? If you're a minor, somebody should have been looking out for you. If nobody else was, the state should have been. Somebody -your guidance councilor of vice-principle or somebody- should have tried to find out _why_ you were dropping out and gotten you put on welfare or something. The state owes you."

"I wouldn't get welfare." Ryou shook his head. "I have a father, I just don't know where he is."

"That's bullshit. You're owed," Bakura said firmly.

Ryou nodded slowly, agreeing whether it was true or not. "Maybe I'll look into it."

"You should," Bakura said in a quieter voice. "You're definitely one of the smarter people I've met. I don't think there's a lot of seventeen year olds with your vocabulary."

"... I like to read." Ryou shrugged.

000

000

I don't know, I feel like the ending here was a bit weak, but I've been trying to put together a closing for this part for a couple weeks (I was working on chapters 4 and 5 simultaneously) and I'm sick of looking at it, so I'm going to call this good-enough and move on to Saturday. Because I know several of you have been fiending for it, I've reworked the twins proper introduction and moved it up to the next chapter. I'll also attempt to stick with my goal of a sex-scene every two chapters and maybe start off chapter six with a little steam.

I love reviews/comments! They inspire me to write moar!


	6. Chapter 6

"_He's made you weak."_

_Bakura glanced over the top of his tablet where he'd been reading the day's headlines. Akefia was poking away at his Gameboy with a faintly annoyed look on his face. "You mean Arthur, I assume?" Bakura asked quietly, turning back to the news site._

"_... You could have been so much __**more**__ if he hadn't made you soft," Akefia murmured in a wistful tone, not looking up from the tiny, glowing screen._

"_I don't really see how, since he taught me everything I know," Bakura responded calmly._

"_To say that __**I've**__ taught you nothing?" Akefia raised an eyebrow._

_Bakura smirked. "Well, he taught me enough to get your attention in the first place, didn't he?"_

_Akefia chuckled. "You've got talent, the old man afforded you a smidge of skill, but you don't have the __**passion**__ to be great. It's such a __**pity**__... I think I've been wasting my time on you."_

"_Mm, yes, what a pity. I'm so very lacking for passion you must be bored out of your mind," Bakura agreed. "Perhaps you'll just have to start from scratch, find a new talented, young vagabond to train."_

"_You have so much __**potential**__," Akefia sighed, pausing his game and tossing it to the side. "I know you'd hate __**beautifully**__ if you just gave it a chance."_

"_Hate is counter-productive," Bakura replied easily. "Being obsessed gives the object of your obsession influence over you. Why would I want to give that kind of power to someone I rather don't like?"_

_Akefia was quiet for a moment and then he growled, "The old man taught you that, didn't he?"_

"_Of course."_

"_He's a liar," Akefia hissed._

_Bakura clenched his jaw slightly, his eyes not leaving an article he was on yet not making any progress through the words. "No. He's not," he said in a quiet but firm voice._

_Akefia's eyes narrowed. "Oh, I'm sorry, did you not like that? Let's just have some juice and gram crackers and talk about our __**feelings**__ then," Akefia sneered._

_Bakura sighed and rolled his eyes._

_Akefia leaned into him, putting his mouth right next to Bakura's ear. "What if I stabbed you in the back? Would you hate __**me**__?"_

"_Hm, literally or figuratively?"_

"_Either? Both?"_

"_Well, I think if it was literal, then I'd be somewhat dead," Bakura said, giving a small shrug which Akefia refused to be dislodged by. "I'll leave biologists and theologians to speculate on what sort of feelings I might have then. And if it were to be figurative, hm, how would I __**feel**__ about that...?" Bakura tapped his chin. "I think you'd __**want**__ me to hate you, so maybe I __**won't**__, just to spite you."_

_Akefia laughed and then sighed, stroking his fingertips down Bakura's jaw. "You would have had such beautiful hate if the old man hadn't ruined you."_

"_I'm sure he regrets it every day."_

Bakura groaned softly, rubbing a hand over his face. He took a long, deep breath and then let it out in an irritated sigh. He hated dreams that made him wake up wanting to punch someone. Particularly when that _really_ wasn't an option. Even taking out his fury on the headboard or the pillow would have probably been a bad idea, since Bakura probably couldn't have extricated himself from Ryou's grip without waking him.

What time was it? He could roll over and look, but that might disturb the aforementioned complication, pressed softly against him, breathing so steadily. The alarm would also disturb him, of course. Was there anything Bakura really needed to be on time for today? No. No appointments on a Saturday.

He reached awkwardly backwards and his hand brushed the clock. Clumsily but carefully, he found the alarm switch and pushed it towards the off-position. Bakura sighed again, bringing his arm back and tucking it around Ryou's gently rising and falling shoulder. He closed his eyes and imagined what Ryou would look like right now, if there were any light source in the room. Pale skin and lean body, no hint of tangible fat anywhere, round, effeminate face and soft, colorless hair spread out over the pillow. He was pretty in clothes; he was probably mesmerizing without any.

But he was also body-shy and traumatized. Bakura leaned his cheek against Ryou's forehead. It would probably be cruel or something to push for keeping the lights on. It wasn't only his body and visual aesthetic though, Bakura also just wanted to _see_ the reactions to his touch. Ryou was good (_very_ good) at giving vocal feedback, but a picture was worth a thousand wordless moans, wasn't it.

Bakura turned his head and kissed Ryou's forehead, stroking his fingers slowly through the boy's hair. Maybe he wasn't exactly a lover, more fantasy than reality, but he was the 'outlet' they'd all been telling Bakura he needed. And he had needed this. This quiet time, made so much quieter by Ryou's temperate presence than any time spent alone with his own thoughts would be. He slowly inhaled the smell of Ryou's skin and hair and relished the faint tug of desire that stimulus produced. Was it Ryou or the fantasy that was so endlessly enticing?

Bakura supposed he must be desperately in lust with the boy. Curious that all his sexual frustration had lead him to such a completely different 'type' than he usually went for. Maybe he'd just gotten burned out on his usual 'type'. Or maybe sweet-and-wholesome was _safe_ and he really was just rebounding. Ryou didn't deserve that, but what was Bakura supposed to do about it? He couldn't break it off _now_, Ryou was financially dependent on him. And... he'd said he wanted to be used anyway. Which was probably exactly the reason Bakura _shouldn't_ be using him and some psychological bullshit.

Bakura groaned and closed his eyes.

"What's wrong?" Ryou's voice whispered, next to Bakura's collarbone.

When had he woken up? Bakura sighed again and ran his fingers up the curve of Ryou's jaw. "Thinking too much..." he murmured against Ryou's forehead and then pulled away half an inch to speak more clearly. "You get in the habit of thinking things are always going to stay the same, then when they turn over you're so freaked out you can't stop asking what-if what-if what-if all the damn time..."

Ryou nodded slowly and then shifted, his arms coming up between them and hands gently catching around the sides of Bakura's face. "Stop thinking," he suggested, and repositioned Bakura's mouth to kiss him.

Bakura sank into the kiss and slid his down-turned arm underneath Ryou to pull their bodies closer together. Ryou's tongue brushed teasingly against his and Bakura tilted his head to explore deeper into the warm, beguiling mouth offered to him. Ryou's arms moved to cling to Bakura for dear life and he started to pant sweetly through his nose. A leg hooked behind Bakura's and he took it as a cue to push his thigh up into Ryou's groin.

"M-mhh!" Ryou moaned against his lips as Bakura dropped a hand to squeeze his buttock and grind slowly against Ryou's mounting erection. After a few moments, Bakura moved his elbow and rolled his weight over, pressing Ryou down onto his back and sucking at his neck. "Oh-Ah! Hahh... Yes..." Ryou mewled, weaving his fingers into Bakura's hair.

Bakura nibbled at Ryou's earlobe for a moment and then murmured, his lips brushing the shell of Ryou's ear, "Let's see if we can wake the neighbors."

Ryou gasped lustily and Bakura shoved the blankets away before crawling backwards on hands and knees over Ryou. He licked the inside of Ryou's thigh and shivered at the desperate little sounds Ryou made before he started hair-pulling in frustration. Bakura winced slightly at the uneven tug on his scalp but obligingly transferred his attention, catching Ryou's hip and holding him down with his left hand as he drew his tongue slowly up Ryou's erection and then closed his mouth around it, absorbing the fevered rhythm of his pulse.

Ryou came quickly and without much warning, but it didn't catch Bakura by surprise so much as it had the first time. He managed not to choke this time as he listened to Ryou's shameless screaming. When the orgasm passed and Ryou was left panting and whimpering in its wake, Bakura slowly kissed his way up Ryou's belly and chest, which elicited more sweet little sounds. Bakura slid his arms under Ryou's thighs and lifted them out over his own, before catching Ryou behind the back and pulling him into his lap.

Ryou wrapped his arms around Bakura's neck and undulated slowly in time as Bakura ground his own erection against the sensitive stretch of skin behind Ryou's balls. "D'you like that?" Bakura panted softly next to Ryou's ear, only pulling his mouth away briefly before going back to lavishing damp affection onto the boy's ear and jaw.

"Y-yeah," Ryou breathed, swaying in Bakura's lap.

"What else do you like?" Bakura asked as he slid a hand appreciatively around the curve of Ryou's ass.

"F-fuck me?" Ryou whispered, a hopeful, needy tone to his voice.

Bakura slowed for just a few moments even as Ryou kept grinding in his lap. "... Give it a little more time to heal," Bakura mumbled against his neck.

Ryou's arms tightened and his head dropped a little, curling around Bakura's shoulders. "A-am I broken f-forever?" he whimpered.

Damn it. Bakura wasn't going to be able to get off if Ryou got weepy. "You'll be fine," he assured softly and laid a kiss against Ryou's neck. "It just takes some time."

Ryou's fingers dug into Bakura's hair and he whispered softly, right into Bakura's ear. "... I want you."

Bakura hadn't quite believed that mere words could push him over the edge, but Ryou's voice, there was something so endlessly arousing about it. Ryou made a lusty little sigh into Bakura's hair as Bakura rubbed wantonly against him, finding release against the cleft of Ryou's ass.

000

Ryou watched the batter form bubbles until the edges of it started to solidify, then he slipped the spatula under and flipped the perfectly browned pancake over to let the other side cook. He smiled softly. As he moved three new pancakes to a plate in the oven, he heard a door open and felt a tiny rush, maybe a heart-flutter. He glanced over to see Bakura exiting the bedroom in fresh jeans and Tshirt, his hair tied up in its knotted bun for showering. He had the bed-sheets bundled up between his hands.

"I can take care of those," Ryou called, feeling a little frown tug at his lips.

Bakura shrugged back at him. "You're making food," he replied.

Ryou turned back to the stove, his face feeling warm, and he grabbed the cooking-spray to cover the griddle before pouring three more pancakes. Around the corner he listened to Bakura loading the sheets into the stacked washer-drier. Ryou heard the door slam shut and then the sound of water rushing into the washer as he watched the pancakes bubble.

"So... is there anything particular you want to do today?" Bakura asked, returning to the semi-enclosed space that defined the kitchen.

"Do?" Ryou paused for a moment, and then moved the new pancakes to the plate in the oven before contemplating the question further. "I'm not sure. You're not working?"

"Not today," Bakura replied. "I don't know, is there anything else you need or something? I mean, you've got clothes and a phone now..."

"I don't need anything else," Ryou said quickly. "...Thank you," he added in a softer voice.

"Okay," Bakura said, nodding and leaning against the fridge.

"I... I should go see Melody, and let her know I'm okay." Ryou poured the last of the batter onto the griddle and watched it bubble. "...Tomorrow would probably be better. I think Saturdays are busier there."

"Probably," Bakura agreed, staring blankly at the counter across from him.

They were quiet for a few minutes as Ryou flipped the last two pancakes and moved them to the plate with their comrades. "Do you want eggs or sausage?" Ryou asked, turning to look at Bakura.

Bakura tilted his head and seemed to consider for a moment. "I could go either way." He shrugged. "I guess... eggs?"

"How would you like them?" Ryou ran a dishrag over the griddle to get off the remaining traces of pancake.

"Eggy. I don't know." Bakura made a goofy little smirk, leaning his head back against the fridge. "What's easiest? Scrambled?"

"Or over-easy or something. It's probably about the same. Eggs are easy," Ryou replied with a shrug and a little smile.

"I usually do over-easy with toast," Bakura said and clicked his tongue thoughtfully. "Let's go with scrambled," he decided.

"Okay," Ryou agreed and then stood still for a moment before commenting, "The eggs are in the fridge."

"Oh. Yeah," Bakura let out a slightly embarrassed sounding laugh and moved aside so that Ryou could open the fridge.

The art supplies were still spread out over the dining table from the night before. Bakura cleared them off and set the boxes and sketchpads aside on the couch to make space for eating. It spared Ryou twenty minutes more before he had to confront the seven-hundred dollars worth of hobbycraft again, but after breakfast, when no fantastic plans for the day had been devised, Bakura migrated over to the couch and Ryou followed him.

While Bakura poked at his tablet, checking through messages or something, Ryou carefully picked up the boxes of pens and pencils one by one and examined them carefully, reading the text on the outsides, not disturbing the packaging in any way, and stacking them neatly on the coffee table.

"Draw me something."

Ryou looked up from the back of the Prismacolor box. "What?"

"I want to see the kinds of things you draw," Bakura explained, looking at Ryou over the top of his screen. "Draw me something?"

Ryou looked down at the Prismacolor box and felt his face heating up a little. "I- I don't do any fine-art or anything like that. Just illustration, really... Like comics or game art, that kind of thing..."

"What genre?"

Ryou bit his lip, feeling self-conscious and picked at his fingernails. "Mostly fantasy, I'm trying to get better at scifi stuff, but it's really different, because fantasy is all organic, curving kind of shapes and scifi is hard, geometric stuff... and I'm not very good at drawing guns..."

"So, like Tolkienesque kind of stuff?" Bakura asked.

Ryou nodded. "Yeah, like that," he agreed.

"You draw me an elf-warrior or something?" Bakura tilted his head to the side, the hint of a smile flickering behind his eyes.

Ryou pressed his lips together and stared down at the stacked art supplies on the coffee table. He nodded slowly and set the Prismacolor box down before reaching out for a Canson sketchpad and the box of graphite pencils. As lines slowly began to divide the lightly toothed white plain, Ryou forgot to feel self-conscious. He didn't even notice himself unwrapping the gum-eraser or pulling the adhesive seal off of the Micron pouch.

Ryou jumped slightly, and it took his brain several seconds of processing to realize that the thing which had disturbed him was a knock on the door. He blinked slowly, looking up from his sketch pad, watching as Bakura pushed himself to his feet. He walked around the bend of the couch, grumbling quietly, "If that's Rebecca again, I'm going to ship her home in a dog-kennel."

Ryou gazed after him for a moment before looking back down at his sketch pad. The colorless outlines of an elfin rogue were all but complete there, but he couldn't use Copics on flimsy sketch paper, to finish he'd have to transfer the image to a sheet of bristol. He needed a light-table. No. No he didn't. He had _seven-hundred dollars_ worth of art supplies, he did _not_ need more.

"_Special deliveryyy!_~"

Ryou blinked and looked back up at the corner around which Bakura had disappeared.

"W-what the _hell_ are you-?" Bakura's voice demanded. "You said you wouldn't even get the parts until _Monday!_"

"That's what Saturday first-overnight is for. Costs three times as much, but _you_ are worth it, Kura," a voice, Ryou wasn't quite sure if it was the same as the first or a new one, replied with a pronounced smugness.

Ryou set his sketchpad down on top of the stacked boxes on the table and turned halfway in his seat, peering over the back of the couch, at the corner of the tiled entryway floor that was visible from his current vantage point.

"... Okay, I appreciate that, but I wasn't expecting you and I don't have time t-"

"_Catch!_"

"Gh- What the _fuck_ are you- MALIK!"

Ryou flinched and his fingers dug into the couch cushion as an olive-skinned blond came tearing around the corner and skidded to a momentary stop on the carpet, looking around wildly and spotting Ryou. Bakura was right on his heels until a second, nearly identical blond tackled him and the first shot toward Ryou.

A thrill of terror at the sudden flurry of unexpected motion rocked through Ryou and he ducked his head down and drew his limbs in towards his core as the blond stranger vaulted the back of the couch and pounced on him.

"GET OFF OF HIM!" Bakura shouted and Ryou squeezed his eyes shut, biting his lip hard.

Ryou wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting, but a bright voice exuberantly exclaiming "Hi, cutie! What's _your_ name?" wasn't it.

Ryou blinked, hesitantly looking up into the pale violet eyes that were staring at him from _much_ too close as a middle-eastern boy, not significantly larger or older than Ryou, hovered over him, smirking and studying him with interest.

"God _damn_ it! _Get off!_" Bakura's voice snarled and Ryou peaked over the couch to see him struggling against the twin, who was crouched on top of Bakura, pinning him face down against the floor and giggling excitedly.

"Oh don't worry, they're just _playing!_" the boy in front of Ryou said, grabbing Ryou's hands and clasping them in his even as Ryou tried to jerk away. "Now. I'm Malik and that's my brother Marid," the blond explained cheerfully. "And who might _you_ be?"

Ryou stared at him dumbly for a few seconds and then glanced back towards Bakura.

"_I am going to fucking murder you!_" Bakura screamed. "_Mai_ told you, _didn't she?_"

"Oh don't be _dense_, Bakura! _You _told us!" his captor, Marid, laughed. "A high end graphics card and 'all that Adobe shit'? Either you're taking up _art_ or you've got some _other _new _hobby!_"

"GET THE FUCK OFF ME!"

"So!" Malik segued in a chipper tone. "How did you meet?" he asked as Ryou kept trying to tug his hands out of the other boy's grip and scoot away. "And how on _Earth_ did you get this frigid prude to put his cock in you?"

Ryou dropped his head, his eyes weren't focusing anyway, and tried to stop hyperventilating even as tremors started to radiate out through his limbs. His lips started moving, repeating the same pattern again and again, before he could produce any sound.

"What's that?" Malik asked, his voice a little quieter and his hands not squeezing Ryou's quite as much, as he leaned forward slightly.

"Pleasedon'ttouchmepleasedon'ttouchmepleasedon'ttouchmepleasedon'ttouchmepleasedon'ttouchmepleasedon'ttouchmepleasedon'ttouchme..."

Malik's fingers slowly uncurled and his hands retreated as Ryou pulled his own back in towards his chest and squeezed his eyes shut. "...I'm sorry," Malik murmured, his voice suddenly very subdued.

There was a thump strong enough to shift the couch-section under Ryou and Malik's arm brushed him as he was hauled up off the seat. "_Bakura_, don't you-" "_Marid!_" the just barely differentiable voices shouted and then there was sudden quiet.

A weight landed on the cushions ahead of Ryou and then fingertips just barely touched the sides of his face. "...Ryou?" Bakura's voice whispered, inches away.

Ryou unclenched his hands and lifted them shakily to find Bakura's, his eyes still squeezed shut. "W-what j-just happened?" he mumbled, his breath shuddering and fast.

"It's okay." Bakura leaned his forehead against Ryou's. "They're friends. They're just really _stupid_," he assured quietly. "...Are you okay?"

"Fine!" Ryou straightened up and shook his head. "Fine! I just- Fine!" he opened his eyes and blinked quickly.

"Okay. I can get rid of them," Bakura whispered, his eyes right there in front of Ryou's.

"N-no. It's fine," Ryou shook his head again and looked over to where the set of twins was standing a few yards away, Malik whispering rapidly into his ear as Marid gave Ryou a doubtful look. "S-sorry. That- You startled me," Ryou said lamely and then pressed his lips together for a moment before adding, "I'm Ryou. It's nice to meet you."

"Oh, not at _all!_" Malik protested, waving a hand dismissively. "We apologize for the over-enthusiasm. We were just a little too excited because Bakura's being so _secretive_," he explained with a just slightly forced smile.

"Because it's _none_ of your _business_," Bakura growled.

Malik pouted like a cover-girl. "Now that's just _mean!_ After all we've _been_ through together?"

Bakura snorted irritably and glanced back at Ryou. "They're... part of my team at work sometimes," he explained.

Ryou nodded slowly, watching Marid step away from his twin and pick up a wide, shallow box that had been discarded on the floor during the scuffle. "And I believe this is for you," he said, his voice very close to Malik's but darker, and without the streak of drag-queen-like flamboyance. He walked closer to the couch but stayed at arm's-length as he presented the box to Ryou.

Ryou looked blankly at the box, the stickers on its surface declaring things like 'Intel' and 'hp'. He glanced up at Bakura, who was looking away with a guilty expression.

"I... kind of got it before you asked me to stop buying shit..." he muttered awkwardly. "And I can't really let you use _my_ computers because they have too much work stuff on them and, I mean, it's the twenty-first century, you _need_ a computer..."

"A custom order for best performance!" Malik chirped, grinning.

"We loaded it with the basic Adobe Graphics Suite, but we weren't sure if you were into video-editing and didn't want to bog it down with that software if you weren't," Marid explained. "But just let us know and we can get a copy of Premiere on there too, if you want."

"It's... fine..." Ryou mumbled, sliding the box into his lap and feeling overwhelmed. "...Thank you."

"You two can go _home _now," Bakura suggested.

"Oooh no we can't!" Malik protested. "I _demand_ the chance to make a good first impression!"

"You don't even know _how_ to make a _halfway decent_ impression," Bakura grumbled.

"Oh yes, he's _so_ much less anti-social now," Marid snorted, giving his twin an amused smirk.

"It is a lovely day and you are going outside and you are going to _enjoy_ it if I have to cram valium down your throat," Malik said sternly, narrowing his eyes at Bakura.

Bakura glared right back at him.

"Get. Your. Coat," Malik hissed through his teeth.

"_No_," Bakura snapped.

"_Now_," Malik said with venom in his voice.

000

Bakura glared sullenly in the gray light, his feet following along almost without conscious decision, like a horse moving with the herd. His gaze rested on Malik's hand linked with Ryou's as he dragged the rather reluctant boy along the sidewalk a few paces ahead of Bakura, chattering brightly to him. Every so often Ryou would glance back at Bakura nervously, as though reassuring himself that he hadn't been left alone in Malik's clutches.

"How _old_ is he?" Marid hissed at Bakura, apparently having decided to hang back and let his twin handle the socializing for the time being.

"Shut up," Bakura growled, turning his glare off to the side.

"He's jail-bait, isn't he?" Marid's voice held a distinctly amused tone. "I didn't think you were into that scene!"

"Shut _up_," Bakura said through gritted teeth.

"And I thought you were looking for someone who _wasn't_ fucked-up," Marid pushed. "What's wrong with him? Rape?"

"_Shut the fuck up!_" Bakura snapped. Ryou turned to look back at him with a slightly alarmed expression, but Malik didn't even break the rhythm of what he was babbling and continued tugging him along. Bakura shook his head, hunching up in his jacket so that the collar was just under his nose, and kept walking. Ryou gave him a look of concern but turned around again to watch where he was going. "It's none of your God-damned business," Bakura muttered behind his collar.

"It's a little hurtful, you know," Marid said in a mock-hurt voice. "I would have hoped you'd at least find somebody _less_ fucked-up than us after all that."

"Nobody in this city is as fucked-up as _you two_," Bakura snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Oh now I'm sure _that's_ not true," Marid said with a chuckle.

"I'd challenge you to find a single one, but I _really_ don't think I'd want to meet someone who made _you_ look well-adjusted."

"Oh, I could probably find ten hanging out in front of the downtown library!" Marid laughed.

"Homeless schizophrenics don't count. That is a biological dysfunction"

Marid laughed. "Still," he said after a short pause. "He doesn't really seem like your type, does he?"

"What the fuck would you know about my _type?_" Bakura snarled back.

Marid shrugged, his eyes tracking a small group of men across the street who were eyeing their procession, Malik and Ryou's linked hands in particular. Bakura could see Marid's hands shift slightly in his pockets, undoubtedly closing around a knife or two, and Bakura also spared a bit of his focus to study the body language across the street. He made eye-contact with one of them and the man looked away. The group seemed to think better of queer bashing in broad daylight and the attention ceased.

Bakura moved his eyes back to Malik and Ryou, irritated with Malik for his total ambivalence to which streets he chose to carelessly drag Ryou through. Malik had apparently chosen the shortest route to the waterfront, which lead through a sketchy part of town, and had found it appropriate to continue the hand-holding and camp either out of complete failure to notice or in his absolute confidence that Marid could protect him from anything. Bakura clenched his teeth and looked down the road, where, two blocks on, they'd hit a major artery and be back among upscale shops and liberal viewpoints.

He glanced back at Ryou and took in the hunched shoulders, slightly dipped head and quickened pace. He'd definitely noticed the unwelcoming atmosphere. Bakura chewed on his lip, silently considering that he had no idea what part of town Ryou had come from. He was apparently completely at ease with having prostitutes as friends, which didn't exactly say 'trashy', but it was a little ways off the beaten path of the average middle-class teenager. And he'd dressed in well-kept but cheap clothing and seemed to regard a hundred dollars as a substantial sum. Maybe he'd lived in a low-income hive not entirely unlike this one?

They crossed over into urban chic territory and Bakura relaxed a little, trying to tune in to Malik's ramblings. "Oh no, _please_ don't think there's any hard feelings! I mean, I'm _jealous_, but not like _that!_" Malik was babbling and Bakura groaned, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment as he felt a headache coming on. "I'd just _really_ like to know how you _did_ it! I mean it took three Manhattans and an LSD tab before _I_ managed-"

"_Malik_," Bakura snapped and when Malik glanced back at him with a painfully innocent expression, Bakura rolled his eyes and snorted irritably. "Tell him about the high school-college program you did," he suggested.

"Oh are you going to do that?" Malik asked brightly, turning his attention back to Ryou. "That's how Marid and I got our degrees. We went to Pinebrook Community College. It's a really pretty campus and I totally recommend it," he started down the new path of conversation with barely a pause for breath.

000

"And Tuesdays is sex-addicts group therapy. The judge is making us go to that for _six months!_" Malik rolled his eyes and sipped at his latte as he sat on top of the railing next to Ryou. "At least _that's_ almost over. _God_ I hate those stupid meetings. It's asinine anyway, don't you think? They're all like 'Let's find all the horniest people in the city and introduce them to each other! That'll make them normal!' I get hit on by the _grungiest_ dudes. It's _sick_."

"What... did you do?" Ryou asked slowly, his own coffee rested on top of the railing, nearly forgotten as he stared at Malik. He was like a train-wreck. Morbidly fascinating and impossible to look away from no matter how disturbing the things coming out of his mouth became.

"Y'know that really sweet fountain they put in front of city hall last year?" Ryou nodded, he had admired the new fountain on several occasions; it was a brilliant design that had managed to look modern yet aesthetically pleasing in a very natural sort of way. "We fucked in it," Malik explained and Ryou's brain took a few beats to dissect and reassemble that statement even as Malik kept going with some new complaint. "But it was, like, 3AM! It's not like kids were going to see or anything!"

"...With... each other?" Ryou asked quietly, staring down at the dark green water below them.

"Well yeah, of course w-" Malik broke off and then laughed. "Oh I'm sorry, you didn't know that did you? Of _course_ you didn't!" he giggled.

"Problem?" Marid asked, looking down at his iced mocha as he fiddled with the straw.

"Er, no, I just wasn't..." Ryou mumbled.

"You don't have to be nice," Bakura said, sitting on a bench next to the rail. "They're completely fucked-up and they know it."

"There's no need to be mean either, of course," Malik added, sipping at his drink again. "We know it's unconventional."

"Unconventional," Bakura snorted, rolling his eyes. "Is _that_ what you are?"

Malik laughed again and handed his latte to Marid so he could hop down to the planked wharf below him without fear of spilling. "And here you've found such a sweet, _conventional_ little thing to play house with!" he said. "And _cute!_" he cast a grin to Ryou, who felt his face heat up a little, embarrassed.

Bakura pointed a warning finger at Malik and said "_No_," in a firm voice, as though admonishing a dog.

Malik had a giggling fit and Marid swished his cup around, raising a thoughtful eyebrow at it. "But does 'no' mean 'no' today, or is there a safe-word?"

"The safe-word is 'I'm going to punt you off the pier,'" Bakura grumbled.

"H-how long have you...? Is that something you were always...?" Ryou mumbled, unable to tear his eyes away from the train-wreck.

"Since we were eleven. Ah, here, look, this one's cute!" Malik was suddenly holding an iPhone in front of Ryou's face and it took him a few seconds to focus. On the screen was a photo of _very_ young versions of the twins with a quilt for the background and one of them- their hair was the same length in the picture and it was impossible to tell them apart- kissing at the other's neck, both naked and tangled together. The photo had a disturbingly professional polish to it.

"_Put that away!_" Bakura snapped, jumping to his feet and glaring. "_Nobody_ wants to see your porn!"

"If that were true, why would so many people spend their money for a look...?" Marid said in a mock-musing voice, tapping his chin. Malik laughed again, but he obliged Bakura and slid the phone back into his pocket.

There were too many jumbled questions bottle-necking in Ryou's mind and he couldn't seem to articulate any one of them. "W-what? I- I don't...?" he babbled helplessly and then shook his head, trying to force out the most vexing of the many problems with the picture. "Who _took_ that?"

"A pedophile," Bakura murmured, settling back down on the bench and taking another drink of his coffee.

"Our foster-dad, Greg," Malik answered cheerfully.

"I think he was more of a profiteer than a pedophile," Marid mused. "He never _touched_ us. He just told us what to do to each other."

"We were very popular," Malik hummed, leaning back against the railing. "We had tones of subscribers. And every time we brought in fifty new ones, Greg bought us a _present!_"

Ryou stared at him, mouth slightly open, feeling hollow.

"He should have been arrested for _criminal stupidity_- filming kids the feds already had tagged," Bakura growled quietly.

"Yes, well, nobody ever said he was _bright_," Marid put in with a smirk. "Just greedy and perverted and lacking in a few morals."

"I liked him," Malik said quietly, tilting his head back and gazing up at the sky. "He never even raised his voice. He was a pervert, sure, but at least he was nice."

"I think it still falls under the category of 'abuse'," Bakura snorted.

"That's what the court says," Marid agreed with a shrug.

Bakura was looking at Ryou, chewing on his lip. He sighed when Ryou cast him a pleading look, hoping that Bakura would explain how this was all a horrible joke. "They were in kiddy-porn for a couple years before the feds noticed and broke it up. They're very proud of their fan-following," he explained. "Don't stress yourself trying to figure out _why_. It's just one of the many reasons they are _really_ fucked-up."

It wasn't a joke, apparently. The photographic evidence did back up the statements made. And maybe it explained why Malik's mental age didn't seem to fit his appearance. Up to now, Ryou had been assuming it was a deliberate act, like a feigned lisp, intended to be 'cute', but now the childlike mannerisms were painting a rather more disturbing picture. "One of... many...?" Ryou mumbled.

A deeply unsettling grin stretched Malik's face and he leaned into Ryou's space. "Want more?" he asked as Ryou took a half step backwards. He didn't wait for an answer, plunging ahead. "We were in foster-care because Marid killed our father. Stabbed him fourteen times with a kitchen knife."

Ryou stared at him, completely lost. What kind of denial issues had to be at work to put that kind of smirk on Malik's face? Ryou's brain seemed to have taken a holiday and was no longer supplying him with any responses or prompts. Again, Bakura came to his aid, asking, in an irritable droll that seemed to say he was well aware of the answer, "Gee, Malik, why did he do _that?_"

"Because he's _wonderful!_" Malik declared, flinging himself at his twin, who caught him in a perfectly choreographed embrace and they launched into a passionate kiss.

Bakura rolled his eyes and then, for Ryou's benefit, elaborated on Malik's unsatisfactory explanation. "Abusive. As in, police took one look at the kids' hospital records and never _mentioned_ the word 'homicide' kind of abusive."

Ryou nodded slowly, still failing to form any kind of verbal response.

000

000

All right! That's it! I'm sick of this chapter! It's done!

I'm also sick of being over-worked and not being able to write as much as I want. I hope to remedy that in the near future, but my aspirations of career-change are being somewhat hindered by being too exhausted to pursue it when I get home from the retail that is eating me alive. Soooo, I'd really love to do more updates, but I am in a stressful place right now and I don't know how often I'll be able to. But I have not forgotten you nor this story. There is more to come.

And BTW, two name retcons to be aware of- the character originally called 'Maggy' in the first chapter is being changed into 'Melody' (Miho's English name) because I've decided to bring her back briefly and I don't like having much in the way of reoccurring OCs in fic when I can help it, and Miho was actually a great fit to that role. Second name change is for a character who hasn't even been introduced yet, so I don't think that's going to upset anyone too much. The person Yami mentioned in the last chapter as having a lunch appointment with on Monday is now 'Mister Wong.' I went back and forth on whether I wanted to make him actually related to Vivian several times, but in the end I've decided to go for it.

Also I recently noticed that FFnet apparently went and took out all of my page-breaks, thus rendering scene-changes really confusing. I've gone back and corrected that by now using zeros instead of ellipsis for page-breaks.


End file.
